Coriolis
by phaelstya
Summary: Spike got more than he bargained for when he saved the world this time. An alternate ending for The Gift. Eventually B/S. Please read and review! **COMPLETE**
1. Of Ending and Beginning

Of Ending and Beginning  
  
Somewhere a small segment of his brain registered that he was falling. That he'd let them down, all of them. And then his hand closed around something solid. Snarling as pain lanced out from his shoulder and down his back, pulsing around the knife wound, Spike grappled up the outside of the tower with inhuman speed, his one driving thought - Save Dawn. Hand over hand he felt his way down the gangplank she was precariously perched upon, careful not to make noise and alert Doc to his presence. When Spike saw the knife bite into her skin, he almost cried out.  
  
"God, no," he thought as he watched red rivulets flow from the cuts across Dawn's abdomen and down her calves. Anger burned through his body but he pushed it down.  
  
"Save her now. Kill the git later," he mumbled to himself. Frantic, ideas flew through his head like wildfire, each less plausible than the last. So he did the only thing he could think of. Threading his fingers through the metal grating, he positioned himself directly below her. and opened wide.  
  
The demon in him cried out for more when the first drops of Dawn's blood spilled across his tongue, but he only grimaced, his eyes drifting closed. Quick thudding vibrations rattled the platform, and when Spike opened his eyes again, he saw Doc's body sailing over the edge and Buffy working on Dawn's bindings. Relief flooded through him.  
  
"Buffy, he cut me.I don't know why it didn't start. God, I'm so sorry."  
  
Buffy wrapped Dawn in a tight hug, her hand absently stroking her sister's hair. "Shhh, it's okay. You're safe now. No apocalypse." Buffy felt warm liquid soaking through her shirt and she stepped back so she could look at Dawn. Her own tears were starting to sting behind her eyelids, the stress of the last year finally coming to a head. She let them fall, glad that they were tears of joy instead of grief. Buffy reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind the younger girl's ear. "You okay?"  
  
"Basically. I mean owww.but it could have been a lot worse." Dawn cringed at the thought, wiping the streaks from her face with the back of her hand, her voice growing very quiet. "She made me think you weren't coming for me, and that if you did.well, I might be the one on the wrong end of your sword. That hurt more than this." She gestured towards the slits in her dress as if they were nothing. Spike didn't want to interrupt, so he went to work disposing of the last droplets that obstinately clung to the grating.  
  
"I'll always come for you, Dawn. Always. I love you so much, and even if I wasn't sworn to protect you, I would. No matter how much you tick me off sometimes." She allowed herself a little smile. "Please don't forget that." Buffy squeezed Dawn's shoulder lightly and turned to head down.  
  
When he saw them start their descent, he croaked out, "A little help here?" Buffy whipped around, eyes scouring the darkness. Spike shifted his weight, trying to swing himself up onto the gangplank. The movement caught her attention, and only then did she see the mop of platinum hair hovering a couple feet below where Dawn had just been tied up.  
  
Buffy nudged her sister towards the stairs gently. "Go on," she whispered to Dawn, "Let them know everything's okay." After watching the younger girl's back retreat as she picked her way down the tower, she turned back to Spike. "What the hell are you doing?" Her voice came out a little colder than she would have liked. It often did.  
  
"Saving the world.again," he grumbled. "What? Does it look like I'm playing bloody pinochle? Just give me a hand." Exhaustion crept into his voice as he looked up at her. So beautiful. Even with the irregular patterns of gore spattered across her soft pink sweater. His warrior woman. Spike locked the thoughts away, saving them for a time when he could savor them.  
  
"Saving the world, huh? Looks an awful lot like hanging on by your fingernails to me." A world-weary sigh escaped her lips as she leaned over, offering the vampire her arm. Strong cool fingers pressed into her flesh as his hand wrapped around her wrist. "Speaking of fingernails.when did you stop painting yours? Thought that was part of the whole evil package." Buffy leaned back, using her weight to pull him up with her.  
  
Spike rolled onto the platform with a groan, "Hazards of fighting the good fight, pet. No time for the more, ah, superficial things in life." His eyes fastened to hers, the urge to trade mindless banter fleeing. "And Nibblet? She alright?"  
  
Buffy just nodded quietly and turned to him, taking in the tousled hair and clothes. Then she saw it, the red stain dripping over the crest of his chin, sliding down his neck where it had dried. There was no cut to account for the blood, and given where she found him.Buffy knew. Suddenly, the girl with a smart remark for everyone lost the power of speech completely. Spike flinched when her skin touched his. She traced a fingertip down the path the blood had left and shivered in spite of herself. He shivered too. For different reasons.  
  
"That close, huh?" Buffy whispered, afraid of the sound of her own voice. He rubbed the mark from his neck roughly with the back of his hand.  
  
"Closer, love. I hadn't been there to catch the drippings; there'd be all manner of hell-beasties roaming the streets, settin' up shop." Spike gripped her wrist with one hand and nudged her slowly sinking chin up with the other. "None of that now." Buffy backed away from his touch. Reluctantly, he surrendered his grip, watching her hand drift back down to rest at her side. "We won. You won. Not the time for tears." Spike turned then, crossing to the head of the stairs, and threw a one of his typical saucy looks back at her. "Don't know about you, but I plan on getting right pissed tonight. Not every day you go toe to toe with a Hell God and come off smelling like roses. Maybe it'll take the edge off the ache in my sodding shoulders." Spike cocked his head slightly, waiting. "Coming?"  
  
She stood there, her arms wrapped tightly around her body as if to keep from flying into a thousand fragments. Her back was still turned, and if he hadn't had the benefit of his vampire senses, the whisper would have been lost on the wind.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
*****  
  
Spike slumped on a barstool in the kitchen, quietly nursing his third glass of a fine, aged scotch that the Watcher was kind enough to procure for the occasion. The Scoobies were chattering about in the living room with a giddy fervor. Leaning forward to rest his elbows against the counter, he cradled his head between his hands, eyes focused on his drink as if it held the secrets to the universe.  
  
"Just you and me mate. Never been much for the cheery back-slapping, myself." A laugh started in his chest, tumbled from his lips, and finally fell on deaf ears. "No matter what I do, I'm still not worthy of getting the smallest smidgen of respect from those wankers in there. Why do I bother?" Tipping his glass up, he drained it, feeling the last bit of warm brown liquid caress the back of his throat. Pushing himself away from the counter, he staggered to his feet and sauntered towards the back door. Spike let it slam shut behind him and patted his pockets in search of cigarettes. Finding them, he lit one and took a long drag, savoring the taste of sweet tobacco rolling across his tongue.  
  
From where she was curled up at the end of the sofa, dozing, Dawn heard the back door slam and tensed. Glancing at the animated faces of her sister's friends she shook her head and snuck into the kitchen. Only an empty glass. She opened the door and stepped out onto the back porch, shutting it softly behind her. Dawn watched him, enjoying his quiet reverie, preferring it to the noisy bunch inside. She laid a soft hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Thank you," before sitting beside him on the stairs. Without turning or even throwing a glance her way, Spike nodded and exhaled the last drag off his cigarette into the night air before crushing the butt beneath his boot heel. How like her big sis, he thought.  
  
"Almost lost you tonight, Bit." He turned to her then, his eyes full of pain, fear, joy, relief; everything she'd been taught shouldn't be there.  
  
"Yeah," Dawn muttered quietly, "No big though, still among the living. And you're the reason why." Spike started to speak, but she stopped him with a glare the Summers girls must have patented. "Just let me finish, okay?" He only nodded. "I know it may seem like it sometimes, but I'm not bitty- Buffy. I give credit where credit is due, and you deserve the credit for this. Sure, the others were there, they helped a lot and stuff. I mean Buffy did take out a Hell God and all, but in the end she wasn't quick enough. She didn't make it before Doc cut me." Dawn hugged her still tender ribs at the thought and pressed onward. "I saw the look on your face just before he threw you off the tower. Like you failed." She grabbed his hands between hers and struggled to meet his downcast eyes. "But you didn't. You didn't! See, I'm here and in one piece mostly."  
  
"He never should have touched you," Spike growled out from behind a clenched jaw. "Never should have gotten his dirty little hands anywhere near you, pet."  
  
"It happens." Dawn shrugged and continued quietly. "I just wanted you to know, that I know. Buffy told me on the way home. Things could have been a lot different if you weren't so pigheaded." He rolled his eyes and groaned, listening to her girlish giggle at his reaction. "Seriously though. What you did was.amazing." She scrunched her nose at the thought. "And, well kinda ewww, but still amazing." Spike bit his tongue as the memory of her blood washing over it resurfaced. "And I won't forget it. No matter what the do-gooder tribe in there believes, I know why I'm here right now." She pressed a soft, chaste kiss against his temple. "Thank you, for everything."  
  
A genuine smile slid across his angular features, softening them and he turned to catch her tear-filled eyes with his own. "You're welcome."  
  
Flashing him a look that could melt a glacier, Dawn jumped to her feet, dragging him up with her. "Now, I for one am all for making sure the gang realizes the error of their ways. I can't wait to see the look on Xander's face when we finally beat through his thick skull just who saved the day."  
  
Spike smirked, "Would be worth it. Seeing the whelp all skittish and uncomfortable knowing Big Bad is the hero."  
  
Just then, several high-pitched squeals erupted from inside. They were both through the door in an instant, Spike's body tensed and ready for action, one arm shoving Dawn behind him protectively. His eyes darted everywhere, seeking the threat, and finding nothing obviously hostile - he relaxed.  
  
"Bloody hell! What was that all about? Scare a bloke to death."  
  
Buffy and Willow at least had the nerve to look sheepish as they mumbled apologies. Beaming, Xander crossed to Spike, poking a finger in his chest, "Hey, Captain Peroxide, did you forget again?"  
  
Spike just rolled his eyes, sighing overdramatically. "Yeah, yeah. Already dead. Try another one on for size, that particular quip lost its thunder a long time ago." Ignoring Xander's blustering search for a comeback, he pushed past him into the living room. "Again, I ask.what's with the bloody shrieking. Sounded like hell itself was swallowing the house the way you lot were carrying on."  
  
Anya pushed through the crowd surrounding her and waved a ring-bedecked hand in his face. "Xander and I are engaged!" 


	2. Pixies Whispered it to Me

Pixies Whispered it to Me  
  
Granules of white sand crunched beneath him as Spike wandered through the twilight. In the distance, a lone tree rose from the rolling dunes, its gnarled branches clutching at the night. He could see a small fire nestled beneath it, the flames dancing gaily against the darkening sky. Of their own volition, his legs carried him over the desolate land seeking the fire's maker. And as he walked, the landscape changed around him, the only constants being the tree and fire before him. For a few paces, the ground he trod was lush and green, almost marshy. And the next few found him gritting his teeth in pain as jagged bits of granite tenderized the soft arches of his bare feet and stinging, icy sleet bit into the exposed skin of his arms. Finally, Spike stood before the blaze, startled as he pushed through a barrier and found himself again on soft desert sand. Seeing no one, he sank to the ground, leaning back against the trunk of the tree to wait. His eyelids drooped as the warmth permeated his skin, giving his cheeks a rosy glow, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he relaxed. A familiar scent danced on the breeze, and his eyes shot open again as he heard the rustle of fabric. A faint smile played across the face of the figure before him. Her simple, high-collared robe was cinched at the waist with gilded rope, strange symbols dangling from the ends, and her hair fell in dark, thick waves across her shoulders.  
  
"Drusilla?"  
  
When she spoke, the voice was Dru's, but her demeanor.it was as he had always imagined she was before she was turned, almost saintly. The woman standing in front of him had not lived an endless childhood of madness.  
  
"Yes and no," she said, her hands clasped before her. She moved towards him, grace and dignity etched in every motion. "This image was borrowed from your past and reinvented to suit our purposes. We find these things go much better when you recognize the person explaining them."  
  
"What.things, exactly? And who is this "we" you're going on about?" Spike summoned an incredulous look for her, his eyes widening slightly when her laughter sang through the air in response.  
  
"You never have been the patient one, have you? Always pushing. 'Now' instead of 'later'. It has been your saving grace and your Achilles Heel. It is why you are here." She spread her arms wide, indicating their surroundings, which dissolved at her gesture, revealing their true nature - a place without form, without time. He was instantly on the defensive, crouched and ready for attack. "That reaction has always served you well before, but let me assure you, your fists will not help you here." Tightly coiled muscles tensed along his lean form instead of producing the relaxation she had intended.  
  
"Get on with it." His jaw worked over the words, chewing on them before spitting them out. "What the bloody hell do you want?"  
  
The woman merely shook her head. "You will see soon enough. One last question, though, before I go.are you always human in your dreams?" Spike cocked his head, a puzzled expression seizing his features, a retort already forming. Her skin was cool as she laid a finger to his lips, quieting him.  
  
"Rhetorical, no need to respond really, especially considering I already know the answer. Well then, I suppose we should 'get on with it' as you've requested." She moved her hand from his mouth to his eyes, covering them with her palm. "Now - see, feel, and remember." Spike felt her fingers dig into his flesh roughly as the Latin rolled off her tongue, "Redono!" (Restore!)  
  
Lightning ran through his veins, searing him, the images coming in quick succession. All of them seen through a crimson veil.his vision tainted by the blood of innocents. Monks chanting, armored knights battling, a dark priestess adorned with an ungainly headdress, hundreds, no thousands, dead or dying, battlefields strewn with the bodies of the wounded. Keening, wailing apparitions pressed on his mind until he thought he would collapse from the sheer magnitude of thoughts. And then, silence.  
  
Rubbing his head to alleviate the ache, he stared at the structure in front of him. A temple. The same symbol that had swung from the woman's belt was carved above the archway, and the stones in the courtyard were a mosaic in its image. Spike secreted it away in his memory, hoping that it would lend some relevance to the events. It showed a man standing inside a large triangle, rays of ethereal light pulsing outward from his cupped hands, images of the sun and moon traveling in perfect synchrony around him.  
  
Dancing through the empty air, a haunting voice rippled around him, "Thus, it begins."  
  
*****  
  
A harsh metallic thud echoed in his ears, followed closely by the sound of rushing water, and footsteps coming towards him. Spike's head snapped forward as he bolted upright with a gasp, grabbing at the hand on his shoulder. Every muscle in his body drew taut, ready to deal a bloody death to whatever had its claws in him. Opening his eyes he turned to face his opponent.  
  
"Well, good morning to you too." Something in the way he stared at her made Buffy uneasy. Hell, he always made her a little uneasy.  
  
"What the.?" Words failed him. Spike tried to focus, crinkling his brow with concentration. Buffy? What? Where? But there she was, her hair done up in a ponytail, wearing a light blue tank top, worn blue jeans, and sneakers - looking at him as if he'd lost his marbles.  
  
She smirked, wondering if he always looked this confused when he woke up. Then she took a stab at answering his unasked question. "You're in my basement, remember? Bye, bye Glory? Great amounts of shrieking? Greater amounts of alcohol? Dawn whining at me until I let you sleep down here instead of sending your drunken ass out to meet the sunrise?"  
  
For a moment he was utterly perplexed, his brows drawing even closer together as he struggled. Then tidbits of memory began floating back. "Yeah.right." He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "Scotch, was it? And I think I recall something about demon-girl scampering about shoving her hand at everyone with a crazed look on her face."  
  
Buffy chuckled. "Close enough. Bet you don't remember slapping Xander's back and wishing him luck."  
  
Spike's face twisted into a scowl, then his mouth fell open as he realized he had done exactly that. "Don't bloody well remember a thing," he snarled. "As if I'd wish Xander anything but dead." The warning look in her eyes made him realize he'd probably worn out his welcome long ago. Buffy arched an eyebrow as if to remind him that threatening her friends, no matter how empty the threat, was not acceptable. Just how long had he been passed out in her basement?  
  
"Trust me, Spike. He wasn't the picture of happiness when it happened, either. His eyes got all buggy, like some demented cartoon character." She smiled and faithfully reproduced Xander's bewildered expression, sticking her tongue out for good measure. His protests still rang in her ears.  
  
"Uh, pet? Not that I don't enjoy reliving last night's humiliating display of bad judgment on my part, but what time is it?"  
  
"Got about an hour 'til sunset." Buffy sighed, crossing to the dryer, scooping the clean clothes into a laundry basket, and starting to fold. "I never imagined you'd sleep all day. Figured you'd wake up at noon and go on another blanket-cloaked crusade through the streets of Sunnydale." She threw a look over her shoulder at him. "I thought you might like to get cleaned up before you head out."  
  
Spike tried to conceal his shock, and he managed to cover it up, badly. Buffy was actually being nice to him? Without having ulterior motives? Must have hit my head pretty hard when I passed out last night, he thought. He wasn't used to this, and struggled for a moment to find something to say that wouldn't piss her off. Finally, he settled for a simple, "Thanks," after deciding it was pretty hard to mess that up.  
  
Buffy felt her cheeks flush suddenly, when she remembered who it was sitting on the camp cot behind her. "This doesn't mean." she stammered, trailing off and hoping he could fill in the blanks for himself. All she needed to hear was his exasperated sigh to know Spike had, in fact, been able to connect the dots.  
  
"I know." Tension crept into his throat, nearly choking him. It always ended up this way between them. As he rose from the cot, languidly stretching, it squeaked in protest. He watched the tight muscles rippling across her shoulders and back as she worked, her ponytail flipping about each time she picked up another article of clothing. Spike shook himself, knew that was a dangerous path to even step foot on right now. The silence stretched between them, tight as a bowstring, until he couldn't bear it anymore.  
  
"Towels?"  
  
"In the closet, across from the bathroom." Buffy relaxed when she realized he wasn't going to push the point. Nodding, he turned to start up the stairs. "Oh, and Spike." He glanced back over his shoulder, catching her smirk out of the corner of his eye. "Don't leave a ring in the tub. I'd hate to have to stake you over soap scum."  
  
His chuckle filled the basement even after he'd closed the door. 


	3. Humanity

Humanity  
  
Spike stretched out on top of the sarcophagus in his crypt, hands tucked underneath his head, cigarette dangling from his lips. The more he thought about it, the clearer the events of last night became. And as the memories drifted back, he began to dismiss the dream he'd had as temporary lunacy brought on by imbibing to the extreme. Rarely, if ever, did he get drunk enough to forget things. Last time had been after Prague. Huddled in a boxcar, Dru's head cradled in his lap, trying very hard not to break. The next afternoon, he found himself sprawled on the dusty floor of a root cellar, his dark princess curled against his side, and the bone-dry bodies of what he assumed was the family scattered around them. Sighing, Spike flicked the long column of ash that had accumulated on his cigarette and took another drag. These used to be fond memories, but anymore they were excruciating.felt as if the Slayer was standing over his shoulder watching every kill with the revulsion written plainly on her face. He tried to remember how things had been in Prague. Thought he was a god then, untouchable. Spike allowed his mind to wander for the first time in ages.  
  
He found himself, wrapped in shrouds of the past, standing atop Charles Bridge, a chill wind whipping around him. Then all was still. Nothing pierced the silence, not even the soft lapping of the Vltava against stone.  
  
Suddenly, a sound, the hideous clatter of a thousand boots marching in even staccato rhythm filled the air. When Spike turned, he saw the flag waving proudly against the night sky, a red and black stain that had infected the whole of Europe. Nazis. All shining boots and weaponry; stoic, hardened faces of boys not even old enough yet to be called men, stared out from under perfectly aligned caps. For all the death and destruction he'd dealt out in his century of existence, these killing machines still sent a shiver across the back of Spike's neck. And for a moment, everything moved at a blinding speed, most of the soldiers retreating into the mist. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a column of smoke rising from the Jewish Quarter of town, blocking the soft light of the moon.  
  
This too was soon gone, as was the heavy hum of machinery. Not one electric light or gas-powered engine. Spike stared as two large geldings drew an ornate carriage across the bridge in front of him. A hawkish-featured man peered out between silken curtains, dressed in finery even the vampire only remembered from history books.  
  
Faster, furiously, the sights invaded his peace. Music of the ages thrummed against his eardrums. People dressed in all manners, sometimes crawling, dancing, and running over the bridge.  
  
Heavy military tanks, running roughshod, rolled over the pavement, breaking it. Riots erupted around him, swallowing his body into their midst, devouring him with their fevered yelps. This he knew. Prague Spring. Chaos. Destruction.  
  
The emotions of the throng surrounding him invaded his nostrils, dancing over his tongue until he could taste them - fear, anger, desperation. And they didn't excite him. Blood and gunpowder leant their stench to the air, completing the cornucopia of human suffering. And it didn't enthrall him. Didn't make him wild with glee. In fact, the more Spike watched, the more his undead heart twisted in his chest, rising up to form a sizable lump in his throat.  
  
When they all turned to stare at him, he felt ready to leap from the bridge into the river. Thousands upon thousands of eyes, human eyes, bore down on him, each pair holding a lifetime of memories in them.  
  
They crowded him, intent on voicing their stories to the only one left who could hear - Spike. Such agony and ecstasy. So many dreams and failures. Such humanity. He closed his own eyes in an attempt to block their invasion. Pressing his palms to his temples, he gritted his teeth together and willed himself not to scream. After a few moments, his eyelids fluttered open again, a blissful sigh escaping his lips as empty air greeted him. With shaking hands, Spike removed a cigarette from his pack and lit it, bracing himself against the side of the bridge. Brusque footsteps sounded out against the cobblestone, and he groaned in response. And then she was in front of him.  
  
"You have seen what was needed." Dru's knowing smile only earned a derisive snort from the vampire. "The memories will continue to come, mind you. However, they will likely be less disconcerting than this was."  
  
"What the hell are you doing to me?" Spike countered, his unease giving the words a sharp edge.  
  
"Nothing has been done to you. This is all the result of actions you took of your own free will, whether you were aware of the consequences or not. If you truly want to know what is happening to you, you might begin by asking the right questions." Her words brought a flash of recognition to his face, and he shook off the thoughts of that back-alley conversation. She moved towards him then, and settled herself atop the ledge he was leaning against. "Now, let's try this again." The corners of her mouth twitched, and Spike watched as she crossed her ankles and swung her feet like a little girl, clutching her hands in her lap.  
  
"Right then. What divine purpose was that rot back there supposed to reveal to me? That I can feel pain and joy, just like every other sodding being on the planet? Too late, princess already knew that." He began to pace, the frustration bubbling forth. Spike continued his diatribe, not noticing the annoyance painted clearly on the woman's face. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited, knowing he would take his time. Bitterness dripped from his lips, as he pressed onward, "Maybe you could put in a good word, eh? Got someone back home that can't quite wrap her mind around it. Thinks lacking a soul means I don't have the capacity for it. Emotion, that is. Rich, ain't it? Just bloody rich." He punctuated the monologue by roughly flicking the butt of his cigarette into the water below.  
  
Silence greeted him. She wasn't answering. He felt a bit out of sorts talking to her about the situation with Buffy. Logically, he knew it wasn't Dru.but part of him couldn't deny the familiarity of her body, her face. Granted, the fact she wasn't talking to the stars made it a bit easier to differentiate. Spike drew himself out of his contemplation and looked at her, waiting for his answers.  
  
"So?" he asked. "What exactly was it that I needed to see, because frankly, pet, I'm drawing a blank here."  
  
"Humanity."  
  
She was met with the raising of a scarred eyebrow and a puzzled expression. "What of it?" he asked. "Been 'seeing' humanity for over 120 years now. I think I know quite well what it looks like."  
  
Sighing and shaking her head almost imperceptibly, she reached out to wrap his hands in hers. "Not really. For more than a century they were cattle to you. Happy Meals with Legs, was it?" Spike smirked. "Indeed," she whispered, "Only recently have you viewed humans as anything more than dinner. Your implant has seen to that, fortunately."  
  
Choking, he blurted out the first words that came to mind. "Fortunately? For who? I hope you don't mean me, because I don't see anything fortunate about having this bit of wire and silicon shoved in my head changing who I am."  
  
She squeezed his hands roughly, trying to keep him from another tirade. "It was fortunate for you," she sighed. "And for us. Without the implant you likely never would have realized your potential. You certainly never would have stepped foot on the path you tread now. The chip gave you time among humans.time to learn how to care for them and about them. Still, your concern seemed limited to a select few." She released his hands and stood, staring at him, through him, her voice low and serious. "What you needed to see was that all these 'Happy Meals' have names, families, and dreams. For now, that is enough." The woman turned on her heel, striding off purposefully into the mists. Spike barely heard her parting comment as she tossed it back over her shoulder. "Great things await, William." And then she was gone. 


	4. Running Away

Running Away  
  
Dawn sat across the table from Buffy pushing her food around on her plate, wishing desperately that they had ordered pizza. Two weeks had passed since the world didn't end, and it seemed as if things were moving back to normal. Well, as normal as things ever got around here.  
  
"So." she started, not knowing what else to say. Her sister was staring at this morning's paper as if it would bite her, a scowl twisting her features.  
  
"Huh?" was all Buffy managed to get out.  
  
"Whatchya doin'?"  
  
"Oh, um." Buffy stared at Dawn for a second and then back down at the paper in her hand. The grief was still fresh, and she didn't feel like producing a long-winded explanation of the why. "Looking for a job," she stated, simply.  
  
"What.what kind of job?"  
  
"Dawn, I don't know," she sighed. "The kind that pays the bills and allows us to continue eating."  
  
"Oh." Dawn stared down at her carefully constructed mound of rice, a smile twitching on her mouth. "Hey, you should be a self-defense instructor or something. You'd be really good at that."  
  
Buffy stopped gnawing on her lower lip for a moment and looked at her sister. "I suppose I would, wouldn't I?" She stood then, taking the empty plate in front of her to the sink. "Eat up. We don't have the luxury of wasting food." A shadow passed over her features, darkening them. "I've got to patrol tonight. Will and Tara should be here soon."  
  
She heard Dawn groan behind her, and then her voice rose, shrill and whining. "I don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself you know. I'm not a kid." Dawn smashed the rice mountain with her fork, stray grains coating the table around her plate, completely contradicting her previous statement.  
  
Buffy turned, leaning against the sink, and clutched the counter with her hands. She wondered for a moment how mom ever did this. Especially trying to handle both of them at once. "Dawnie, look.I know I'm not mom. I know I'll never be mom, but I have to take care of you." Her voice wavered and her eyes stung. "And if it makes me feel better to have someone here with you, in case something happens, you're just going to have to deal with it. I'm not like those parents out there, leaving twelve and thirteen year old kids home alone. I know what the things that go bump in the night look like. I know they're real. And I know it's my fault that they seek us out."  
  
"But.Buff."  
  
"No buts. Just get over it. Okay, so it's unfair. Myself? I'd rather be a little overprotective than see you hurt or dead. I'm trying very hard to do what's best for you."  
  
The doorbell rang, and she could hear Willow and Tara giggling behind the door. Buffy strode into the living room, tossing a look back at Dawn who was pouting at her plate.  
  
"Please Dawn, just try."  
  
*****  
  
Twirling a stake between her fingers, Buffy tried to forget about all the real-life stuff awaiting her attention at home. Bills, cooking, laundry, cleaning, raising a teenager when she wasn't really much more than one herself - it was enough to drive anyone a little bit wacky. She needed a good slay, a nice tumble to remind her that she was good at something. The tingle on the back of her neck told her the fight was there to be had.  
  
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she called into the night before situating herself atop one of the nearest headstones. Buffy felt a presence behind her, creeping forward, but she waited until it was close enough to be caught at the wrong end of her roundhouse kick before whirling around. Clutching at the stone beneath her, she fought to maintain balance as a hand wrapped around her ankle, blocking it from making contact.  
  
"Now, now pet. That any way to greet an old friend?"  
  
Buffy could almost taste the alcohol on him; it surrounded him with a foul- smelling haze. Disgusted, she shook her foot free of his grip and walked away, mumbling curses under her breath about drunken vampires. Oddly enough, Spike made no move to follow. Her anger had carried her halfway to the cemetery gates when she heard it - a long, low, piteous wail like an animal caught in a trap trying to decide whether or not to gnaw its own leg off. Agony. That's the only word she could find to describe it. Shaking her head, she turned her face up to the stars.  
  
"Why me?"  
  
Spike lay crumpled in a heap behind the headstone, the bottle of whiskey responsible for his condition, upturned and seeping into the ground at his feet. He heard her return. Heard her footfalls rustling the grass near him, and tried vainly to pull himself back together. All he could do was laugh when her face, twisted with frustration, floated into view.  
  
"Spike."  
  
"Slayer," he slurred.  
  
"What was that about?"  
  
"What was what about?" An inebriated chuckle pushed past his lips, almost turning into a sob as he gazed up at her.  
  
Buffy shook her head, leaning down to help him stand, slinging his arm over her shoulders and her arm around his waist. "You know what. It had to be you. No one, nothing else around here. Already did my sweep."  
  
"Like you care," Spike muttered, stumbling over a stone in his path, nearly jerking Buffy to the ground with him as he fell.  
  
She sighed and wrapped her arms around him again, dragging him back to his feet. Trying to maneuver both of them was a chore, but she managed to get them going in the general direction of his crypt. "Wouldn't be here if I didn't," she whispered. "Why do you do this to yourself? Does it give you some kind of twisted happy to wander around smelling like a distillery?" He snorted in response.  
  
"Yeah, love. That's it. I get off on drinking myself bloody stupid."  
  
"Then what? Last time you were this gone, you actually congratulated Xander. And the time before that, Willow and Xander were locked in the factory because Drusilla left you for some mucus man."  
  
"Chaos demon," he spat out. "Beginning of the end, that was." He stumbled again, trying to remain on his feet as the memory of those times washed over him.  
  
Buffy leaned him back against the cold stone surface of his crypt as she pushed the door inward with her foot. Grunting she wrapped an arm around Spike's waist and shuffled inside, unceremoniously dumping him in his chair. "Still didn't answer my question."  
  
His eyes half-lidded, he struggled to look at her. "What?"  
  
She was quickly losing her patience. "What is this all about? Swimming in whiskey, howling like hellhounds are nipping at your heels.really, Spike, what prompted this fantastic display of self-destruction?"  
  
He rummaged through his pockets, trying to ignore her. Finally finding his cigarettes, he tapped one out and lit it with a flourish. She was on him in heartbeat, her fingers grasping the butt from his lips and grinding it under her heel. "Hey," he protested, "My house, my rules, Slayer. I can damn well smoke if I want to." He shook another cigarette free from his pack and brought his lighter to the tip, inhaling deeply. Again, she plucked it from his mouth and stomped it out with her foot. Growling, he surged to his feet, only to tumble back into the chair a few moments later.  
  
"Stop avoiding. I'm trying very hard here to help you out. And although I'm still not sure why, it might be nice if you'd at least cooperate."  
  
"Bloody stubborn, aren't you? Always want things to go just your way. World doesn't always work like that pet."  
  
Spike could almost see the steam rolling off her as she stood in front of him; fists clenched on her hips, lips pursed together. "Fine," she barked at him. "Suit yourself." She turned and stomped towards the door. "Next time, I'll just let you fry."  
  
"Buffy?" he called as he heard the hinges creak. "Please, love, I'm sorry. I just.I don't.I'm not sure what to do."  
  
She gripped the handle on the door, ready to flee out into the night. Memories flashed past her closed eyelids. Spike slumped in a corner, covered in glass shards where Glory had thrown him. Spike left broken and bleeding, tortured by the same because he wouldn't tell her who the Key was. Spike latched on beneath that platform, where he caught Dawn's blood, and saved the world. The last image is the one that made her turn around. The way he smiled as he crossed the threshold. And the words.  
  
I know you'll never love me. I know I'm a monster, but you treat me like a man.  
  
Gritting her teeth, Buffy turned. When she stood behind the chair she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. "Yes, Spike?"  
  
He didn't look at her, instead focusing his stare on a crack in the wall, trying to maintain a degree of dignity. "Dreams. Ever since.ever since the night on the tower. She's haunting me. Told me I'm destined for great things. And the rage, the hope. The whole bloody world crashing down on me." Removing a third cigarette from his pack, he lit it and took a long drag, hoping to calm his shaking hands. "Didn't ask for this, you know? Just want to be rid of it."  
  
"What? Who? Huh?" Buffy sputtered as she tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying. As her brain finally kicked into gear, she shook herself. "Okay. The 'what' I get. You're having dreams of some kind, yes?" He nodded.  
  
"Nice of you to catch up, pet."  
  
She glared at him. "As for the 'who', you'll have to elaborate on that and the 'huh'.well that's just a testament of how much I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Drusilla."  
  
"And again with the 'huh'?"  
  
"The 'who'. Drusilla. She's the one in the dreams, only it's not her. Not even close."  
  
"You're flipping out because you've been having dreams about your ex?"  
  
"No." The drunken haze began to evaporate under her questioning gaze. Spike shook his head slowly and stood. "Slayer, come on now.don't be thick. If that's what all this was about, do you really think I'd be bothering you with it?" His irritation got the better of him then, and he began to pace. "These dreams. It's like I'm experiencing a past that I never had.living all these memories of people I've never met. Feeling their feelings. Bloody exhausting. This woman always comes around after the fact to explain why I saw what I did.or why I felt the way I did. And she looks like Dru, but she's not."  
  
The perplexed look on Buffy's face deepened with every word. "We need Giles," she stated, matter-of-factly.  
  
Spike stared at her. "Why the concern, all of a sudden, pet? Not three weeks ago, you wanted nothing more than for me to get out of town."  
  
"Things change."  
  
"Indeed they do." Flicking the remains of his cigarette away, he moved to the door. "Alright then, love, we're off to see the Watcher."  
  
"Don't call me that," she mumbled before following him out into the night. 


	5. Dusty Tomes and Prophecy Before Bed

Dusty Tomes and Prophecy before Bed  
  
Giles ran hasty fingers through his hair before flicking on a lamp next to the door. The pounding only increased in intensity, and after situating his glasses he turned the knob. Buffy and Spike pushed across the threshold without waiting to be invited, and headed towards his couch to make themselves comfortable. After taking a token peek at the clock, Giles sighed and shut the door. Do they have no concept of time, he thought. 2 AM.  
  
"Please, by all means, do come in," he murmured, sarcasm thick in his voice.  
  
Buffy turned at his words, taking in the rumpled hair, bleary eyes, and robe. Realizing what time it was, she felt horrible.  
  
"Giles. I.sorry." Her words trailed off. "We.I mean.Spike.he needs your help."  
  
"With something that simply couldn't wait until the normal waking hours? Imagine that," Giles retorted, some of his Ripper attributes coming to the fore at the rude early morning awakening.  
  
"I said I'm sorry. We'll just.go." Buffy stood, grasping Spike's elbow roughly and pulling him to his feet. "It can wait."  
  
"No, it bloody well can't," Spike yelled, shaking his arm free and planting himself firmly on the couch cushions. He paid no attention to the withering glares aimed his direction. Though the alcohol was quickly evaporating from his system, Spike could only look forward to another night of haunting dreams and restless sleep. It set him a bit on edge.  
  
"Spike," Buffy sighed, crossing her arms over her chest "Have some consideration, would you? Giles was."  
  
"In bed," the Watcher supplied. "But seeing as the harm's already done, why don't we get on with it so I can go back to sleep. As entertaining as you two might find it, I don't particularly care to watch you bicker until the sun rises. I do believe I've had quite enough of this vampire houseguest to last several lifetimes."  
  
Buffy nodded quietly and flopped back down on the couch.  
  
"Now, Spike. If you would be so kind as to relate the undoubtedly dire situation that led you and Buffy to my doorstep at two in the morning."  
  
Drawing a deep breath, Spike launched into his narrative.  
  
*****  
  
Three hours and several glasses of scotch later, Spike had related a detailed description of everything he'd experienced since Glory's defeat. Buffy had long since dozed off under a blanket at the other end of the couch.  
  
"Well?" Spike asked. If anyone could unravel the mess in his dreams, it was the watcher.  
  
Giles mood changed abruptly. He laughed aloud and shook his head, removing his glasses to wipe his watering eyes.  
  
"Fabulous. I've got Dru invading my dreams and the only person who has chance one of helping me has gone completely off his bird."  
  
"Spike." Giles stifled a chuckle behind his hand and replaced his glasses. "In all seriousness. Perhaps next time I discuss my suspicions that you may have a higher purpose, you'll take care to listen. At any rate, it does sound vaguely familiar. Of course, such things tend to when you've done as much research as I have over the years."  
  
"So you're telling me you have no clue what's wrong with me."  
  
"In a word, yes." This earned a groan from the slouching vampire. "On the other hand, you've given me quite enough information and very specific details that will aid me in the search for answers."  
  
Spike stared at him, surprise evident on his face. "You'd do that?"  
  
"Of course. It's intriguing to say the least, and with Glory gone, things have quieted down considerably. The symbol you spoke of should be relatively easy to identify once I find the proper texts."  
  
"Thanks, Rupert. You're all right."  
  
"Well.uh.yes, thank you. I'll let you know what I find."  
  
With that, Spike stood and glanced through the drawn curtains. "Best be on my way, then." He gestured towards Buffy's sleeping form. "She be alright here?"  
  
Giles nodded. Spike strode purposefully to the door, turning as his hand rested on the doorknob. He started to say something, but the words caught in his throat.and then he was gone in a swirl of leather.  
  
*****  
  
The bell tinkled as Buffy pushed open the door of the Magic Box, Dawn following her closely.  
  
"Welcome to the Magic Bo."  
  
Anya's face brightened at their entrance and then fell as realization hit her, turning to continue her counting. Piles of musty books covered the table in the back, nearly obscuring Giles from view. Things were definitely back to normal.  
  
Slamming the cover of one of his large volumes shut, the Watcher coughed as a cloud of dust enveloped him. "Blast." Cough. "Anya, I thought you dusted the shop." Cough. "Regularly." Cough. "This is unbearable."  
  
Anya simply glared at him and flipped through another pile of bills.  
  
"You okay, Giles. You're looking a little green around the gills," Buffy said with a smile.  
  
"Yes of course. It is my fault, I suppose, for burying myself in these texts so thoroughly."  
  
"Find anything yet?"  
  
"Not as of yet, no."  
  
As far as Buffy knew, the search had been completely fruitless. She snuck a glance at Anya who was watching Dawn closely to make sure she didn't break anything. With a quiet chuckle, she slid onto the bench across from Giles. Leaning her elbows on the table, she began to read the titles of the books in front of her. She only made it through half a dozen before she had to stifle a yawn behind her hand.  
  
"How long have you been at this?" Buffy flipped open the cover of the book in front of her, Celestial Symbolism, letting it drift shut again quickly, a grimace twisting her features.  
  
"Ever since you and Spike crashed through my door, really. There's something very familiar about all of this.as if I read about it very recently." He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to relieve the eyestrain. "I just can't quite put my finger on it." A sigh escaped his lips as he stretched his back. Getting too old for this, he thought. "And Spike, how is he holding up?"  
  
"Spike's.Spike. Just with an extra side of crazy." Her smile faded abruptly. "Honestly? He looks like shit. I know vamps shouldn't technically have to sleep, but he gives new meaning to walking death. I'm kinda worried."  
  
"Perhaps you should say something about it? Encourage him to talk about these dreams. He does accompany you on patrol now, yes?"  
  
Buffy nodded. "I just don't know what to say. There will be times when he's the same old annoying vampire we all love to hate, and then.it's like he's just not there anymore. It's freaky. How do you say, 'Oh, I'm sorry you're being tormented by some unknown force that's messing with your mind' without seeming completely heartless? And to make it worse." She took a deep breath before continuing. "To make it worse, I feel absolutely helpless to stop it. And then I wonder why I care, if I should care. It's all so.blargh." Her head thumped against the table.  
  
"Buffy. It's perfectly understandable that you would want to help him. It's what you were born to do.help people that is."  
  
"But Giles, that's just it. He's not 'people'. He's a vampire. Chip or no, that's what he is."  
  
Sighing, Giles pushed the book in front of him aside and looked at his Slayer. "Compassion, in its truest form, has no use for the boundaries of ethnic, social, or political standing. I'd also venture that applies to species as well. Even though Spike is in essence a demon, that fact does not make your sympathy wrong, or inappropriate. He's in pain and you wish it to stop, it's as simple as that. If nothing else, his actions in the past weeks have earned him that much."  
  
Buffy studied Giles for a moment. He could almost see his words rolling around in her head, finding purchase there.sparking memories, kindnesses long ignored. She shook herself out of the stupor, and caught her watcher's eyes with her own. "Yes, I guess they have."  
  
With a small smile, she rose from her place at the table, collecting Dawn on her way out. Shaking his head, Giles returned his focus to the ancient writings before him. He glanced at the volume Buffy had been toying with, before crinkling his brow and picking it up. Pages, undisturbed for ages, rustled against each other as he ran his fingers across them. About three- quarters of the way through he paused, drawing the book closer to him, squinting at the images.  
  
"Oh dear." 


	6. The Other Side of the Looking Glass

Down the Rabbit Hole  
  
"Spike!" Buffy kicked the crypt door open and called out again. "Spike! Where the hell   
are you? Come on…patrol!" She imitated his North London accent, badly. "Spot of   
violence before bedtime?" A soft light flickered across the ceiling through the opening to   
the lower level. Buffy rolled her eyes, a strained look seizing her features in   
remembrance before lowering herself onto the ladder. Moisture clung to the air around   
her, and as she dropped to the dirt and cement floor the scent of burnt-out candles   
assailed her nostrils.   
  
"Spike?"   
  
In the dim light, she could see a motionless figure face down amongst the shadows. He   
wasn't moving. Buffy reached out a hand to turn him over, hoping to shake him awake.   
Spike didn't stir when she rolled him onto his back, but she saw his swollen eyes and the   
tear stains on his cheeks. It only made her shake him harder. Nothing. She shook him   
again, shouting his name. At a loss for what to do, she reared her arm back and let a   
punch fall square on his nose. His body twitched at the impact, but Spike didn't rouse or   
even blink. Blood trickled lazily from his left nostril and down over his lips.  
  
"Okay. Now you're freaking me out. Just…stay here."  
  
Buffy turned and took the ladder in quick strides, breaking into a run across the cemetery   
grounds. Giles. Giles would know what to do.   
  
*****   
  
Huddled in a cold corner, he wept. Tears fell across his cheeks and wet his hands with a   
salty sting. So much blood. He kept his back pressed against the wall, feeling rather than   
seeing the parade of macabre spectres dance before him. And every one had a mother, a   
sister who loved and mourned them and their passing. Decked out in a short sailor dress,   
complete with a smart cap, a small girl not more than five-years-old sucked on a lollipop   
beside him. Her hair, a deep auburn color streaked blonde by the sun, fell across her   
shoulders and halfway down her back, shining and perfect…reminded him of Dawn.   
Sticky fingers touched his arm, the skin cold and clammy with death. She leaned closer.   
  
"My mummy will miss me," she whispered. "Can you help me find her? I lost my way   
and it's so dark."   
  
He had to look at her, face her. When he opened his eyes, she was hovering inches from   
him, breathing rotten breath, twin puncture marks marring her tender neck. If possible, he   
pushed himself further into the corner. The sailor dress was gone, and in its place   
something very frilly, lacy, and Victorian. Dru had wanted to turn her. Keep her as a pet.   
Her own unliving doll to dress up and coo over. Even then he couldn't do it. In the days   
he would do anything for his black princess, he wouldn't let her keep the child. It was   
then he started buying the dolls. All of them named after the girl as if to remind him   
every day that he had once denied her something.   
  
And he saw, felt every day of her young life…just as she had lived it. Simple things like   
her teddy and falling asleep on her father's lap as he read her a story.   
  
"So you see, William. This is where it began." Hearing Dru's voice, the swift decisive   
inflection of the woman, the being who borrowed her form, broke him. Spike crumbled,   
wrapping his arms around his knees.   
  
She spoke again. "This is where it all changed. And for some reason, this girl was special.   
Though you would deny it six ways from Sunday back then, you felt sorry for her, and   
even a bit guilty. Oh you explained things with cold rationality at the time. 'Have enough   
to take care of with Dru. Don't need her around mucking things up for us.'" The woman   
shifted, sitting down before him, resting her hands upon her knees.   
  
"Perhaps it was the trust in her eyes when she took your hand, or the fact that when she   
smiled she looked like your own sister. Suppose it doesn't matter much, now. I only   
wanted to show you just how long a process this has all been. So that you would know."  
  
Standing, she stared down at him and sighed. She hefted him to his feet and leaned him   
against the wall, bracing him so he wouldn't slide back down.   
  
"This is just preparation. If you don't find the answers soon, we'll be seeing quite a lot   
more of each other. As it is you've wasted unnecessary time, and though I'm fond of you,   
I really don't care to spend eternity tormenting you."   
  
He made an unintelligible noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh. "Answers, eh? If   
you haven't noticed, I'm not the smartest bloke around so why don't you just spill. I'm   
bloody tired. And this?" Spike waved a weak hand at the air. "Not my idea of a good   
time."   
  
"Nor mine." She began to back away from him, fading until she was only a ghost of a   
presence and a whisper. "The past is only the first challenge you must face. Knowing will   
only weigh your heart until you find the true purpose. Trust in that."  
  
  
*****  
  
Buffy worried her lower lip with her teeth, cupping a steaming mug of tea between her   
hands, courtesy of Giles. She wasn't drinking it, but the warmth felt good against her   
skin. Calming. Comforting. It was as close as she could get to having Mom back. When   
Spike stirred on the couch, she didn't notice at first, her attention was focused at a   
nothing outside the window. Only when he sat up did she turn.  
  
"Bloody hell." He pressed a hand to his temple in an attempt to ease the throbbing.   
Noticing his surroundings, Spike's brow furrowed. "What…" He turned to Buffy in   
confusion. "Why is it I keep waking up somewhere else than where I fell asleep?"  
  
She shrugged. "Too much alcohol?"  
  
"Haven't been drinking, pet."  
  
"Well, maybe not…but you were definitely passed out or something."  
  
"And immediately you thought, 'Hmm. I'll just drag Spike all the way across town to the   
Watcher's house'? I have passed out before, you know. I think I'm capable of handling it   
on my own."  
  
"That's so not what this is about, although I got kinda wigged when you wouldn't wake   
up. I even punched you."  
  
Spike's hand drifted to his nose, feeling it tender and stinging as the bones knit   
themselves back together. "What is it with you and the nose, love? How many times have   
you broken mine, yet you never seem get enough?"  
  
"Spike…" Buffy set her mug on the table beside her, drawing herself up straight, and   
sighed softly. "Really not the time. I'll tell Giles you're up. He wanted to talk to you.   
Some big prophecy thing." She stood and went to wake the watcher where he'd dozed off   
at the table buried elbow deep in books. Laying a soft hand on his shoulder and giving a   
gentle shake, she called his name.  
  
"Giles. Giles, come on. Spike's awake." His head popped up from its resting place,   
glasses perched at a crooked angle on his nose. Straightening them, he wiped the back of   
his hand across his mouth, just in case a droplet of moisture had crept out in his sleep.  
  
"Oh…um, good. I suppose I should fill him in on the details before he has another lapse   
then." Giles gathered the texts in his arms and shuffled over to an armchair, Buffy in tow.   
Spike watched him; he looked like he hadn't slept in a week.   
  
"So, I'm guessing you figured something out. Took you long enough."   
  
"Spike…" Their voices, filled with aggravation, urged the vampire to silence.   
  
Giles began. "I suppose it did take me awhile to find the proper texts. As I had nowhere   
to begin save the symbol you described in such detail. What I found is a bit disturbing."   
Spike's body tensed in reaction to the words.  
  
"No…really?" He faked a shocked expression for a moment before his features hardened.   
"That disturbing bit has found it's way inside my head, crawling around like it owns the   
place. I give bugger all how much this all disturbs you; because being bothered by it ain't   
gonna change a thing. Bothers me, but that hasn't done anything up to this point but make   
me right pissed off. On with it then."  
  
Giles sighed and pushed every bit of sincerity he had into his voice. "Spike, I know that   
this has been difficult for you, and what I'm about to tell you will probably not make it   
any easier. I'm asking you to try to listen without getting defensive. As you've already   
said, it won't help anything."   
  
Spike nodded, making an effort to hold his tongue at least until the watcher had said his   
piece. Buffy curled up on the floor, chin resting on her knees and coiled her arms around   
herself tightly. She was glad that Giles had already explained things to her, and that she   
had been able to provide the information that proved to be the final piece of the big   
prophecy puzzle. She just didn't know how Spike was going to take it.  
  
Giles was nothing if long-winded, and it seemed he would be wasting a lot of wind   
tonight. Pulling Celestial Symbolism into his lap, he opened it to a book-marked page   
then passed the text to the vampire for confirmation.   
  
"This is the symbol you described, correct?"  
  
Spike nodded again after glancing at the image and returned the book to Giles.   
  
"Right then." The watcher took a deep breath and opened the second volume. "Time for a   
bit of a history lesson. This symbol is the mark of an ancient triad of guardians. They   
were entrusted with a burden no earthly being should have to shoulder, and so were given   
immortality…at a price. They were rendered ineffectual, shades in this and every other   
dimension, only permanently habiting the world between sleep and waking. Allowed to   
watch and suggest a course of action, but not directly interfere."  
  
"Sounds like your type of people, Watcher," Spike interrupted. Giles ignored his flip   
comments, pressing onward.  
  
"When the universe was young all things existed in one dimension. Hell, heaven, mortal,   
immortal. You can imagine the chaos, I'm sure. A high council came together in an   
attempt to bring order to the world. It was decided that existence would be split,   
segmented. The beasts would have their paradise hell and the angelic beings their heaven.   
And though there must always be balance between them, and their paths forever linked,   
no one would interfere with the other. When the dimensions were created a group of three   
was brought before the council: one demon, one heavenly being, and one mere mortal.   
They were bound to each other and given their gift."  
  
"So, they decided to make dimensions and gave these guardian types some kind of   
present. I still don't understand what this rot has to do with me."  
  
"Spike, the gift they were entrusted with was the means to restore things to their former   
state…the one item that would undo all the council had done." The vampire's eyes   
widened in recognition.   
  
"Dawn."  
  
"Well yes. The Key to be more exact about it. If I may continue?"   
  
Spike nodded, completely speechless. Buffy eyed him, trying to gauge his reaction. He   
looked absolutely bewildered, not an adjective she ever thought she could apply to him.   
Giles tried to fill in the blanks.  
  
"Over the years, some small punctures were made between dimensions. One of which   
exists right here in Sunnydale. The hellmouth. The peace the council had hoped would   
endure was upset as demons found a way to inflict themselves on the mortal realm, even   
a few heavenly creatures tried to infiltrate and destroy hell in their self-righteous way.   
The balance was faltering. Walls made to be solid were becoming more transparent as   
beings forgot about the ages-old pact. Glory remembered. She also didn't care. You must   
remember that the monks were only the physical guardians of the Key. The three still   
observed and suggested as much as they could. I believe that to be part of the reason   
Dawn was created. In human form, the Key's power could be harnessed, lessened in a   
way. The blood would eventually stop, whereas living energy would last forever and the   
dimensional walls permanently obliterated."   
  
"Watcher, as fascinating as this all is, I'm still at a loss. Nothing in there about these gits   
taunting me in my dreams."  
  
"Yes, well. I have a question for you, to sate my curiosity."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Before the battle with Glory, did you experience dreams? Anything out of the   
ordinary?"  
  
Spike struggled to remember the weeks before the final confrontation. While he was lost   
in his memories, Buffy retrieved a bottle of bourbon, two glasses, and a bottle of water   
for herself from Giles' kitchen. She poured a glass for her watcher and the vampire and   
set them on the coffee table, earning a grateful smile from the older man. When she   
curled back up on the floor, Spike finally began to speak.  
  
"Dunno. Once, I guess. Thought it was just a memory of sorts. Visions of my past…at   
least until I saw the Nibblet's face. I'd never do that to her, I knew it then, know it now.   
So I just ignored it."  
  
"Never do what, Spike?" When she spoke, Buffy's voice felt scratchy against her throat.  
  
He stared at the floor, not daring to meet her eyes as he said it. "Feed from her."  
  
"As I thought." Giles' words filled the air that was already thick with tension. He drew a   
parchment from the stack of books and laid it on the coffee table with careful hands.   
"This…is where you fit in." The watcher bent his head to recite the words of the   
prophecy. "Being born to light, demon bred to darkness, reinvented by circumstance and   
sacrifice. Thrice will the Key infuse him. Thrice will he be renewed. The Coriolis. The   
fulcrum. The one to collapse time upon itself and see all things in one moment. Only he   
will know and wield the true power of the divine instrument – balance."  
  
Spike looked more bewildered than before. "You don't actually think…"  
  
"I do." Giles supplied, leaning back in his chair, waiting for the torrent of questions. It   
never came, and the vampire slipped into a sullen silence, obviously waiting for an   
explanation. "I believe the first dream was their way of compelling you to do what was   
needed."  
  
"What?" Spike snarled. "They want me feed off the Bit? Sorry, not going to happen." He   
pulled a shaky hand through his hair. What he wouldn't give for a cigarette.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and snorted in an unladylike fashion. "You already did, moron."   
  
With that, his head snapped up. "I bloody well did not. Chip, remember?" Spike gestured   
towards his head.   
  
"You didn't bite her, no…but you did drink her blood, up on the tower." She glared at   
him, almost daring him to contradict her.  
  
All she heard was a subdued, "Oh," from him and then Giles continued.  
  
"I think these dreams are a result of the fact the ritual has yet to be completed. You must   
'imbibe' of the Key two more times." Spike and Buffy both started to protest, but he   
stopped them with a firm glance. "I know I didn't speak to you about this before Buffy,   
because I was hoping to find another way. I don't like the idea of Spike feeding from   
Dawn any more than you do, but in the case it is a very necessary evil."  
  
Spike bolted from his place on the couch and made for the door without another word.   
The walls shook with the sheer force of the slamming door.  
  
"Well, that went well," Giles muttered. Buffy glared at him, pinning him down with her   
eyes.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"As I said, I was hoping to find another way."  
  
"Well, keep looking. There has to be something else, Giles. I just can't…I won't…"  
  
"Buffy, I've scoured every text I can think of. The only way is to complete the ritual. Any   
other course of action…it would mean essentially signing Spike's death warrant."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If he does not finish what he started, the dreams will overtake him. He'll slip into a   
constant stasis, unable to feed, unable to wake. And though he won't die, one of us will   
likely be forced to make the decision to put him out of his misery. Tonight was the first   
sign that the situation is already precarious. You couldn't wake him. And that will be a   
permanent state of affairs unless we do what is necessary." Giles retrieved his glass of   
bourbon from the coffee table, downing it in one large gulp.  
  
For her part, Buffy stared at her hands, where they twisted at each other in her lap. She   
was beginning to think that her attempt to straighten things out in her head was an   
exercise in futility.   
  
"I know this is hard. I know that you don't even want to think about it. But you also   
know his purpose…what he will be when the time comes. He will be a formidable ally,   
and more importantly, it will be his job to care for Dawn. Buffy, there's so much we   
haven't been able to uncover about your sister. Spike will have the answers."  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks in a flood. So much. Too   
much. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start."  
  
"Talk to him. Tell him his purpose. Since he's already immortal, that part of the news   
should at least be easy to take. As for being Dawn's guardian, I think in a way he already   
is." He removed his glasses and rubbed them furiously. "I myself don't know what to   
make of the rest of it, and I'm quite sure he won't either."  
  
"Giles…I…"  
  
He interrupted her before she could get any further. "He is the balance point, Buffy…the   
fulcrum between good and evil. And when it's over, he'll have full knowledge of past,   
present, and future events. At least, I believe that's what the prophecy means. I'm certain   
it will take some time for him to adjust."  
  
Buffy held her head in her hands, staring at the floor in front of her. She tried to   
incorporate all this new information with ease, but it wasn't working. Not one bit.   
  
Giles spoke again, trying desperately to reach her. "Look at me." She obliged, raising her   
eyes to meet her watchers'. "Go to him. You're the only one who has any concept of   
what he's going through. What it means to be chosen. What it's like to have your life   
ripped from your hands and set adrift by fate. Just…try."  
  
All she could do was nod in response, and after a few moments she slipped out the front   
door without another word. 


	7. Realizations

Realizations  
  
As she stood under the warm spray, Buffy tried to push her roiling emotions aside. When she'd left Giles' place, she had fully intended to track Spike down to whatever dive he was lurking in, hoping to drown his sorrows. She knew it was the right thing to do. Her feet, however, had other ideas, and she found herself standing on her own front porch. Willow and Tara had departed soon thereafter. They had tried to talk to her, but she was still reeling from...well, everything. When Buffy had told them that she was fine, and that it was nothing - they seemed appeased. She needed more time. So here she was, standing in the shower trying to think about anything else and failing horribly. With a quick flick of her wrist, she turned the water off and stepped out of the tub onto the bathmat. Toweling off quickly, she donned her robe without a second thought and padded across the hall to her room.  
  
Buffy flopped on her bed with a groan and stared at the ceiling. What could she tell him? What could she possibly say to make this easier? For a long time, she had fought to escape her destiny. Especially after what had happened with Angel. She still didn't fully accept it. And when she looked at her life she regretted the fact that something was always missing...normalcy. Something she would never have. Spike...well. In the beginning he was normal, for a vampire. Okay, maybe not so normal. And when the Initiative saddled him with the chip, he moaned and sulked for what seemed like forever, but he adjusted. After awhile he gave up searching for a way to get it out. Not because he was happy about it, but because he realized that there was nothing to be done about it. And once he'd fallen in love with her, he hadn't really mentioned it again.   
  
She rolled onto her side with a sigh and pressed her cheek against the pillow. Naturally she didn't care to think about being chained up on the lower level of his crypt, it still turned her stomach. But it also allowed Buffy to reflect on how far he'd come since then. For all her protestations to the contrary, she knew the night they faced down Glory that he truly did love her. The scene replayed in her head, and she shivered at the sudden chill that crept up the back of her neck.  
  
  
"We're not all gonna make it. You know that."  
  
"Yeah. Hey. Always knew I'd go down fightin'"  
  
"I'm counting on you ... to protect her."  
  
"Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight."  
  
"I'll be a minute."  
  
She started upstairs, only turning back when she heard his voice.   
  
"I know you'll never love me. I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's...Get your stuff, I'll be here"  
  
  
And he was. There. Even knowing that he could die, he was willing to sacrifice himself for her and Dawn. It's what the Scoobies had done for years. It wasn't something that anyone would do for the sake of obsession or infatuation. Hell, Anya skipped town when things went down on graduation day, even though she was involved with Xander at the time. No, he definitely loved her. Buffy shook her head. How the hell did I get here? None of this is going to help him, she thought. And then it dawned on her...the perfect thing to say. It had to help. Even though she knew it was a long way from making things alright, at least it would help.  
  
If she was going to do this, it had to be now, before she lost her nerve. Buffy sprang from the bed, discarding her robe and fumbling through her drawers for clothes. After putting on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she pulled her damp hair back in a ponytail and snuck out into the hall. She crept down the stairs, fearful of waking Dawn and pulled on the boots she had discarded earlier by the door. Compulsively, she checked the back door to make sure it was locked and then slipped outside. Now all she had to do was find Spike.   
  
It didn't take her long.   
  
She saw a cloud of smoke rise behind the tree in her front yard and curl up into the night sky. And she actually smiled. Buffy tiptoed up behind him, hoping to catch him off guard. All things considered, she still liked to mess with him.  
  
"Not gonna work Slayer. Felt you before you even opened the door."  
  
She pouted, "That's no fun. And it's not fair."  
  
Spike chuckled weakly, "Yeah...lot in life that's not fair. Didn't your mum ever teach you that?"  
  
Buffy cringed at the mention of her mother. "I kinda learned it the hard way."  
  
"Suppose we all do, some time or another, eh pet?"  
  
"Look, Spike...I don't want to argue. Actually, I was on my way to see how you were doing and talk to you."  
  
Choking on a drag, he dropped the butt into the yard alongside three others, his face a mask of confusion. He emerged from the shadows, the streetlights bringing out the pallor of his skin and circles under his eyes.   
  
"That right?"  
  
She nodded. "I know there's nothing I can say to fix this. It's a big deal, and it's not like you had any real choice in the matter. But...I'm going to say what I decided to up there." Buffy pointed at the light still burning from her bedroom. His eyes drifted to the square of illumination falling on the lawn and up to the window it came from. She could have sworn he looked wistful or longing, as if he wanted so badly to be there instead of lurking out here in the shadows. Buffy gave herself a swift mental slap. Duh, of course he does. He loves you.  
  
His voice interrupted her mindless meanderings. "Uh, love? You plan to share with the class, or are you gonna stand there chewing your lip to bits all night?"  
  
He never made things easy. She sighed. "Yeah. All I wanted to say was...some things just are. No matter what you do, no matter how much you wish they weren't; they just are. Thinking about this made me realize a lot of things about myself actually. So, um...there's the Buffy wisdom for today." Buffy blushed as she wrapped up her little speech. Lame, she thought. So very lame.  
  
"Care to clue me in on what we're talking about here?"  
  
Growling, she turned to head back inside. "Nothing Spike, just...forget it. Giles said I was the only one that could understand what you're going through with this prophecy thing and I spent all night trying to figure out what could possibly help, and this is all I came up with. I don't have any flowery speeches or divine revelations, because well...that's just not me. And that's part of what I learned tonight. No matter how much I fight being a Slayer, no matter how much I yearn for that elusive normal life I'm always babbling about...it'll never happen. Because some things just are." Buffy's boots clomped against the front porch and she spun around to confront him, ready to deliver the last words of her rambling tirade. She found herself nose to chest with Spike, and took a couple stumbling steps backwards to put some distance between them.   
  
"Ow," she said rubbing her nose.  
  
With that he clutched his head and crumpled on the stairs. "Bloody hell!" he snarled. She reached out a comforting hand towards his shoulder, but he motioned her away. Suddenly remembering how mad she was, Buffy snatched her hand back.  
  
"Serves you right."  
  
Spike raised his eyes to look at her, her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw clenched, and sighed deeply. "Does it, now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Care to explain why?"  
  
"No."  
  
Grumbling, he picked himself up off the ground and started off towards his crypt.   
  
"Spike, wait." He turned back to face her, gritting his teeth against the verbal lashing that was sure to come. "Look, I'm sorry." Brow furrowed with confusion, he just stared at her, his head cocked to the side. "This didn't exactly go the way I planned. I wanted to tell you that I know what it's like and that if you need to talk about it, any of it, you can talk to me. And I promise I'll try to listen and not hit you." Buffy scuffed at the wood beneath her feet with the toe of her boot, waiting for him to answer.   
  
"Alright then." His voice shook slightly, and the next words came out with a little more pleading in them than he had originally intended. "Now a bad time?"  
  
  
"Um. I guess not. One thing though..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Before, why the hell did you ask me what I was talking about? It should have been pretty clear. At least it was in my head. But yeah...my head? Probably not the best environment for things that make sense."  
  
Spike chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his hair, hoping beyond hope that his answer wouldn't send her running inside. But, he'd always been honest with her...no time to dress things up now. Not when they were finally able to be relatively civil with one another. Closing the distance between them, he settled himself on the top step, purposefully avoiding her eyes.   
  
"Because that's exactly the way I feel about loving you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The silence began to stretch from merely uncomfortable into excruciating, and Spike found himself fidgeting with his lighter. Buffy picked at invisible lint on the front of her shirt, finally breaking down to fill the empty air with words.   
  
"So...um...about this...prophecy thing." She settled herself beside him on the step. "What did you want to talk about?"  
  
He smiled broadly when he realized she was neither hitting him nor running away, just as she'd said. A tiny baby step in the right direction. Rushing to the surface, his words tumbled over each other as if they were all trying to get out of his mouth at once. She smiled, and he laughed, and they talked until dawn began to turn the sky from violet to pink.  
  
*****   
  
  
With a wide yawn, Buffy pushed the front door open and turned to watch Spike racing the rising sun back to his crypt. Rubbing the goose bumps from her arms, she made her way into the kitchen for water. She sank onto one of the stools and took a long draught from her glass. What a night. Thankfully, they had both made it through unscathed. There had been only a couple awkward pauses where either he or she had thrown a well-placed barb that struck too close to home. Otherwise, she had spent most of her time listening to him, letting the rich, cadent quality of his voice lull her. It was times like those she had to remind herself repeatedly what he was. Talking seemed to help him. His face reflected everything he had felt during the dreams with a clarity that seemed reserved only for him. For a minute, she had been envious. Her thoughts and feelings had a tendency to be muddled and a bit messy. If nothing else, Spike definitely knew how he felt about this. And about his grand purpose. Near the end of the night, she explained to him what Giles had told her about the prophecy and what it meant for him. What was it he said?  
  
"I'm not exactly one for going with the flow, you know. Don't plan on bowing down to ritual now, never did before. The absence of a certain Annoying One is evidence enough of that."   
  
Then she gave him the last bit of unsettling news. The part about not waking up.  
  
He had sat there for a few moments, staring at the lightening sky, perhaps looking for someone to blame. When he spoke again, he seemed deflated, resigned.   
  
"Suppose it's inevitable then," he had said, as he stood. "Tell the watcher to find another way. Won't do anything to hurt the 'Bit, not even to save my own skin." He had studied her then, for a few moments, as if trying to decide what planet she had come from. With a nod, he had turned away from her and set off in the direction of his crypt. Something made him stop short, at the end of the walkway.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Anytime."  
  
Thundering footsteps on the stairs startled her out of her trance. Buffy glanced at the clock and groaned. Summertime usually meant sleeping in for her sister, but here it was six-thirty and she was already up roaming around.   
  
"You're up early," Dawn said, "Or, um late."  
  
Buffy didn't respond, she was desperately trying to figure out what to tell her, and how to do so without inflicting major emotional trauma. For her part, Dawn was nonplussed.   
  
"Maybe it's just a wild guess, or my startling powers of deduction, but I'll go with late. Seeing as how the door woke me up and you've got the dark circles from hell going on."   
  
"Dawn," she warned. "Language."  
  
Her sister just rolled her eyes and started rummaging through the cabinets for breakfast. Settling on a box of Corn Pops, she pulled out a bowl, spoon, and the milk.   
  
"So, what's got you all grumpy, this morning?"   
  
Buffy ignored the question, her brain still busy crafting an explanation. "You know that stuff will rot your teeth."  
  
"Maybe the monks gave me super-duper fluoride treatments or something. Like one bowl will hurt."  
  
"All you eat is junk." She sighed, deciding now was as good a time as any to get into this. She watched Dawn put the milk away and sit beside her on a stool, spoon in hand.   
  
"Dawn, there's something I have to tell you." The spoon paused halfway between bowl and mouth as the younger girl sought out her sister's eyes. Her muscles tensed. Those words were usually followed by something potentially world-ending.   
  
"Um, okay."  
  
"It's about Spike."  
  
"Okay." The trepidation she felt before only deepened. Buffy never really talked about Spike. And despite his being a vampire, Dawn liked him. He treated her like an equal. The first thought that entered her mind was far from pleasant.   
  
"He's not, dead, is he? Or, or deader? Or dusty?"  
  
Buffy backpedaled quickly. "No, no. Nothing like that. Something worse, maybe. Or better. Depends on who you ask." She gave her sister a small smile.   
  
"So? What's going on?"   
  
"I guess it would be easiest if I just start from the beginning..."  
  
She spent the next hour or so trying to make things clear to Dawn, who stopped her several times with questions. All in all, she was taking it well. Even the fact that Spike needed to drink her blood on two more occasions. It unnerved Buffy that she would be so willing. She was starting to feel the fact she hadn't slept and struggled to wrap things up so she could finally fall into bed.   
  
"As far as we understand it, it means Spike will be your guardian or something. And in the end he'll be some weird, mystical, all-knowing balance keeper."  
  
"Cool!"  
  
Buffy glared at her little sister. "Not cool. Completely of the uncool. Do you have any idea what this is doing to him?"  
  
"So I just go give him some blood, and then everything..."  
  
"No. No blood. No bleeding of any kind. Your blood does all kinds of weird things, and Spike's already said that he doesn't want to hurt you."  
  
"But you said..."  
  
"Yeah. I said. And Giles will find another way. He has to. Spike and I talked about this, and neither one of us want his fangs anywhere near your flesh."  
  
"Don't I get a say in this?" Dawn put on pouty face number 301 in an attempt to break her sister's resolve.  
  
"No."  
  
"Buffy..."  
  
"I said no. And Spike made himself very clear."  
  
"Fine." Dawn stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, and flicked on her radio at top volume. They had no right to decide things for her, especially big things like this. She began formulating a plan. One that would keep Spike conscious. It would probably piss both of them off after the fact, but she'd deal with that when it happened.  
  
  
7 


	8. The Strength to Choose

The Strength to Choose  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing with the lovely characters of a creative   
mastermind we all know as Joss.  
  
A/N: I apologize if this gets a bit hard to follow. I put trust in my muse that these three   
timelines should be written as they occur - simultaneously. Many thanks to those of you   
who have read and reviewed. It keeps me motivated. Hope you enjoy.  
  
  
  
  
Dawn heard the phone ring shrilly over the still thumping sounds of her stereo. Once.   
Twice. Three times. And then Buffy's voice drifted up through the floorboards. She   
cracked the door. Her sister was still downstairs. Perfect. The younger girl crept down the   
hall and into Buffy's bedroom, making a beeline for her vanity table. Rifling through the   
drawers quickly, her hand met painfully with the object she was looking for. She slipped   
it into her bag, and listened carefully before dashing back down the hall to her room,   
turning the lock quietly as she shut the door. Phase one, complete. On to phase two. No   
time like the present. She checked her bag one last time before opening her window and   
climbing out onto the roof.  
  
  
*****   
  
  
"Will, I just don't know."   
  
"Buffy...talk to me. I don't bite. Completely non-bitey Willow. I know I haven't been   
around as much, but Tara...and...look, I'm sorry."  
  
Buffy yanked the elastic band out of her hair and ran her fingers through it, moving the   
phone from one ear to the other. She was stalling. Even on the phone, she stalled.   
  
"No, it's okay. I understand that you wanted to spend some quiet time with Tara. I would   
do the exact same thing if I were in your shoes. There's just so much to say, that I don't   
even know where to start, really."  
  
"The beginning has always had a nice ring to it." She could hear Willow's smile across   
the line.   
  
"You're sure you won't wig out on me? Because this next part? Very, very wig-worthy."  
  
"Come on, Buffy...it's me. Very hard to surprise a life-long Hellmouth resident."  
  
"Alright. You asked for it."  
  
  
*****  
  
  
"Our time grows short."  
  
Spike snorted. "Can't say I'm real broken up about it, pet."  
  
"No I suppose not." Dru seated herself before him, folding her hands in her lap. They   
were back in what the vampire had loosely named The Void.   
  
"What? No words of wisdom to impart? Nothing left to torture me with?"  
  
"Hardly." His eyes met her hardened ones. "If I were you, I'd sit down." Spike learned   
long ago that he'd be better off listening to her than arguing, so he folded his legs beneath   
him and settled himself facing her.   
  
"This is a rare gift I give to you now."  
  
"Gift?" He muttered sarcastically. "You haven't already given me enough? Oh, I get   
it...another sodding burden to shoulder for you higher ups. No thanks, not interested."  
  
"It's not a burden William, unless you see fit to make it so. This gift will help you in the   
coming months...to understand."  
  
And before he could utter a word in protest, she was gone and he was again set adrift in a   
sea of someone else's memories.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
"What?"  
  
"Told you," Buffy giggled. "Totally wig-worthy."  
  
"So, Spike is turning into this fulcrum thingy?"  
  
"Giles seems to think so."  
  
"And it's because he drank Dawn's blood the night we defeated Glory?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And he has to drink her blood two more times or else he slips into a coma? Only he   
won't do it?"  
  
"Um. I guess so." Buffy twirled the phone cord between her fingers, her head beginning   
to throb in time with the bass still blasting from Dawn's radio.  
  
"Wow."  
  
"I know. This is crazy. The crazier part is that I had a really long talk with him last night.   
Giles told me that I was the only one who could even begin to understand what he's   
going through right now. I guess he was right."  
  
"So...how'd that go?"  
  
"No bruises or broken bones. There was some minor nose-smushage. But I guess that's   
the best you can really hope for with the two of us. Really, he seemed a lot better when   
he left this morning. Not happy, but I think he's dealing."  
  
"This morning? You spent all night with Spike?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And what Wills?  
  
"Buffy, he's head-over-heels for you, and you're saying he didn't try anything?"  
  
Buffy blushed and sighed audibly. "It wasn't like that. We just sat on the front porch and   
talked. He's actually not so bad when he isn't busy being a pain in my ass."  
  
"You like him." Willow accused.  
  
"What?" Buffy screeched the word into the receiver. "No. No liking. Tolerating. And   
definitely no feelings of the kind you're implying." She never knew she could turn so   
many different shades of red at once. "Now who's crazy?"  
  
"Buffy, look...I'm sorry. It's just been awhile since Riley and I thought..."  
  
"Thought what? That I was going to forget him chaining me up in his crypt and almost   
feeding me to his ex? And, hey...vampire. Evil dead. Er, undead. Soulless. Or have you   
forgotten?"  
  
"I haven't. All I'm saying is that it's been a long time since Spike's been with the fangy-  
grr. And who knows what he'll really be after all this is over. But it definitely won't be   
evil."  
  
"And that of course more than makes up for the thousands of people he killed or tried to   
kill since becoming a vampire...including us, right?"  
  
"Of course not, Buffy. But really, if you were going to worry about dating mass-murdery   
types, you should have thought of that before Angel."  
  
"Angel was good."  
  
"Maybe when you met him. I've read the chronicles though, and we both know exactly   
what he's capable of first hand. He ate his entire family when he was turned. You know   
very well he wasn't always good."  
  
"So you're on Spike's side now?"  
  
Willow growled into the phone. "No. There are no sides. You've been my best friend for   
how long now?"  
  
"Long time. Five years?"  
  
"Right. And I've kind of learned your wacky mating ritual. This denial stuff? It's part of   
it."  
  
"Whatever, Wills. I should go, now. I haven't slept yet and I'm about to thump my little   
sister for blaring her music for the past forever."  
  
"Kay Buffy, get some sleep."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Bye"  
  
"Bye"  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Spike gasped as he opened his eyes. There was only a blur of black and white, and the   
idea of movement at first. And noise. God the noise. As if he hadn't learned yet how to   
use his ears. An incessant beeping, the rush of air, and crowds of people. They sounded   
like they were on top of him, in his head. Everywhere. And then he was in motion, being   
cradled against an ample bosom and taken somewhere. Footsteps echoed against the   
linoleum of the empty hallway. The noise softened to a dull roar as they pushed through a   
door, and a warm yellowed light flickered across his skin. He was passed from one set of   
arms to another and he tried to focus on something, anything he could make sense   
of...striving to reconcile the muddled shapes. A voice pierced through the white noise,   
close to his ear.  
  
"What are you going to name her?"  
  
"Elizabeth." He couldn't mistake the soothing tones for anyone else, and his mind   
traveled back over what seemed like distant memories now...cocoa with little   
marshmallows. Joyce. "After her grandmother."  
  
"It's a beautiful name, for a beautiful little girl."  
  
A bright white flash burst before his eyes, and suddenly the shapes became people, and   
colors danced everywhere. He found himself staring into big blue, newborn eyes.   
  
"We're calling her Dawn."  
  
Another flash. In the mirror, Buffy stared back at him, mascara dripping down over her   
reddened cheeks as she scrubbed her hands furiously. Her mind. Her memories. All of   
them. He knew she had just dusted her first vampire. Gotten her calling. He felt the pain   
of loss and the strong resolve of denial flooding her veins as her parents argued in the   
next room.  
  
Time jumped again. Her neck clutched in a death grip. The Master lowering his head to   
drink. The splash of stagnant water invading her mouth and nostrils. And then, only   
darkness.   
  
In the alley, he saw himself emerge from the shadows. The flash of red underneath his   
duster.  
  
"What happens on Saturday?"  
  
"I kill you"  
  
He felt the fear clutch at his heart. Fear of the unknown, fear of what is to come, fear of   
death. Even then, she had such a will to live. Her fire, it was what had always drawn him.   
What made him love her.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
The sun was high in the sky when Dawn passed the cemetery gates. Almost noon. A light   
breeze whispered through the trees, and she lost herself in thought. For all of Buffy's   
good intentions, she knew this was right. They could both be stubborn and foolish all   
they wanted, but this...this had to happen. She felt it. With a deep breath, she nudged   
open the door of Spike's crypt and crept inside, her heart pounding in her throat and   
thudding in her ears. Just a little blood. Nothing more than a cut really. No big deal.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
"Dawn!" Buffy knocked on the door again as some boy band sang mindless, meaningless   
pop crap at top volume for the third time. She rattled the doorknob in her hand, finding it   
locked.   
  
"I get that you're angry. But can you at least find a different CD?"  
  
Nothing. Not a rustle. Not a heavy sigh. Not a sound.  
  
"Come on, Dawn. Open up. The least you could do is yell at me."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Alright then. Like it or not, I'm coming in."  
  
With a rough twist, she broke the lock on the door and stepped into her sister's room.   
Empty. Curtains fluttered in the open window and the Backstreet Boys taunted her from   
the stereo.  
  
"Shit."  
  
Buffy slammed her fist down on her sister's radio and sighed. It was probably too late,   
but she had to try. Without a second thought, she sprinted in the direction of Spike's   
crypt. Maybe, she'd make it. Maybe.  
  
  
*****   
  
  
From her spot on the stairs, Spike watched his back retreat down her front walkway and   
felt the wave of sympathy surge in her. But there was something else there, buried deep.   
Deep enough she would never admit it to herself. He couldn't quite put his finger on it,   
but he realized she cared and it was enough. Hope quivered in his heart. He'd gotten his   
crumb.  
  
The demon shattered his peace, demanding attention and a taste of the fresh blood that   
danced on the air. Frantically, he sought the source. Only the empty space of the void.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
Dawn drew the dagger she'd taken from her sister's room across the palm of her hand   
just deep enough to bring blood to the surface. With a grimace she laid it beside Spike's   
motionless body and took a calming breath. Okay, she thought, way too late to wimp out   
now. When he began to stir on top of the sarcophagus, she pushed away the lingering   
doubts and held her fist over his mouth, squeezing it tightly until bright crimson drops   
fell on his lips. She hadn't expected him to vamp out on her, and when his facial bones   
shifted, she gasped. His tongue darted out to catch the stray droplets that tumbled down   
his chin, and she squeezed again, sending a fresh flow into his now open mouth. Dawn   
took two stumbling steps away from him when his eyelids snapped open. It was the   
amber eyes of the demon that watched her back away and trip, sending a cloud of dust   
into the air as she fell to the floor. He gave her a pained look, and his features melted   
back into the human façade she knew so well.   
  
"Nibblet."  
  
"Spike," she whispered, hoping to worm her way out of the lecture.  
  
"What did you do?" He slid easily off the stone surface and kneeled before her, capturing   
her small hands with his big ones. Turning them over, he saw the blood welling up from a   
thin cut across her palm. Dawn opened her mouth to answer, and the door burst open   
sending Spike skittering for shade as stray sunbeams invaded the crypt.   
  
"Dawn!" Only the volume matched the desperation in Buffy's voice.  
  
"Jeez. I'm right here. You don't have to scream." As soon as the words left her mouth,   
Dawn wished she could call them back. Not a good idea to get smart with what she   
assumed was an already furious Slayer. The door slammed shut behind Buffy and she   
glared at her sister accusingly. Spike emerged from the shadows.   
  
Buffy turned her glare on him. "Did you know about this?"  
  
"No." He mumbled quietly. "I didn't. This is the last thing I wanted. You know that, pet."  
  
She nodded and looked back at her sister, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Her voice   
hardened. "You. Home. Now." Dawn knew better than to argue when she used the Mom-  
tone, so she just picked herself up and shuffled towards the door. Buffy followed her   
closely, body tense with anger. She glanced over her shoulder at Spike.  
  
"We'll talk later."   
  
The vampire just shifted uncomfortably and leaned back against the wall as his girls   
strode out into the sunlight. 


	9. Finding the Line

Finding the Line   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing with the lovely characters of a creative   
mastermind we all know as Joss.  
  
A/N: My apologies for the extended pause between chapters. I was too wrought on   
Tuesday to write, and real life interfered a bit. Keep the reviews coming; the feedback   
beast needs to eat!  
  
  
Dew clung to the soft leather of her boots as Buffy maneuvered between the headstones   
of her third cemetery. Spike followed a few paces behind her in silence, thinking. Dru,   
well – the guardian, had been right, he understood her much better now. Knew better than   
to push on this uneasy camaraderie they seem to have found with wild declarations.   
Knowing didn't make it any easier to talk to her when she was like this though. Stewing.   
Looking for something to kill, something to take all her frustration, rage, and worry out   
on. He did know that if he kept quiet, it wouldn't be him. He was so lost in thought he   
didn't hear her when she spoke at first.  
  
"What was that, love?" Spike snuck a sideways glance at her, the beauty of her silhouette   
bathed in moonlight.   
  
"I still don't understand why she did that." She whispered, her voice laced with a   
combination of fear and disbelief. In a smooth motion, she kicked an offending rock out   
of her path, not even breaking stride. "I just thought…" Buffy's trailed off, not able to   
express her cluttered, rambling thoughts in words.   
  
"Thought what? That Dawn would just mind you? Pet, she's a teenager. They always   
think they know what's best. It's a wonder the human race lasted as long as it has.   
Teenagers are bloody stupid. They do without thinking and act basically on instinct. Lot   
like vamps that way. You have it made."   
  
She stopped in front of him abruptly, whipping around to face him. Spike halted a couple   
paces away from her, consciously staying out of range.   
  
"What?" The look she gave him was pure puzzlement. He took a tentative step towards   
her, noticing her rage had quieted for the moment.   
  
"You have a lot of experience with vampires is all. Might come in handy dealing with the   
'Bit."  
  
Buffy clutched her stomach as she doubled over in laughter. One glance at the quizzical,   
searching look in his eyes only served to raise the level of her chuckles.   
  
"Good to know you find me so amusing," he muttered bitterly.   
  
"No, Spike…" She giggled, gasping for breath. "It's not that." Almost under control, a   
snicker slipped past her lips. "I just had a vision of 'dealing' with my sister the way I deal   
with the undead population."   
  
"And that somehow resulted…in this?" Her cheeks were flushed and she wiped her   
watering eyes with her sleeve, slowly composing herself.  
  
"I can't stake my sister."   
  
"Oh. Right then." Spike strode past her, deeper into the darkness, scanning the shadows.   
Then he felt himself falling and a bright flash burned behind his closed eyelids.   
Vampires. A dozen or so holed up in what looked like an abandoned office building.   
They were getting ready to hunt. He could tell they weren't fledglings…too well   
organized. And by the looks of things, they had been there awhile. Forcing his eyes open,   
Spike clutched at the grave marker beside him, pushing to his feet. He felt her hand on   
his arm, heard the concern in her voice as she screamed his name.   
  
"Stop bloody shouting!" The softness in her eyes dissipated before he even had a chance   
to appreciate it, and she crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
"What the hell was that about?"  
  
"Nothing." He straightened his duster and turned on his heel, heading towards downtown.   
Buffy growled at his back and stomped after him in pursuit.   
  
"My ass. That…was something more than nothing." Spike didn't answer, just quickened   
his brisk pace. "Spike!" She took a few running strides and caught his elbow in her hand,   
spinning him around. "Whatever wild goose chase you've got us on…wherever we're   
going, I think I at least deserve to know why."  
  
"You're looking for something to kill, right Slayer?"  
  
He was met with a bewildered look.  
  
"Well I found you something right nasty. It should do." Spike started walking again,   
away from her.  
  
"What? How?" Buffy sputtered, jogging to catch up again and fall into stride next to him.   
  
"A hunch. Just a hunch."   
  
  
*****   
  
  
"The slayer…"  
  
"One and only," Buffy quipped. "Well, except…you know, Faith"   
  
After a brief pause the eighth vampire rushed her, shoulder and head lowered, trying to   
knock her down. She sidestepped its lumbering movements easily and drove her stake   
through its back. A broad smile brightened her face and she brushed the vamp dust from   
her jacket. Spike was not faring so well. He was still on his feet, but more than one of   
them had gotten in a lucky shot. Blood streamed from his nose and a sizable hole in his   
abdomen where one of the vamps had pierced him with a metal pole. None of them saw   
Buffy until it was too late. With an efficient flick of her wrist she dispatched two. A third   
lunged at her, and she spun around, sweeping his feet out from under him. Momentarily   
dazed, he laid against the cool concrete floor for a second. It was enough. She pushed her   
stake home, and ran towards Spike.   
  
He saw Buffy coming out of the corner of his eye, and turned his attention on the last   
vamp, leaving the one on his right for her. With a growl, he brought an elbow up to meet   
its face. Spike snarled between clenched teeth, and advanced, fists flying. Behind him he   
heard the other vamp disintegrate and decided it was time to end the dance. Closing the   
distance, he brought the last one to its knees with a well-placed kick and leaned down to   
snap its neck, managing to remove the head entirely in his fury.  
  
"Pillock," he sneered. Wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, he   
turned around. "You all in one piece, pet?"  
  
Buffy ran her eyes over his disheveled form. "More so than you." She touched the cut   
over her left eyebrow gingerly. "Seems you got a brand, spanking new hole there."  
  
Spike probed the wound on his stomach, wincing slightly. "S'nothing."  
  
"Come on," she said, heading for the empty doorway, "Let's get you cleaned up."  
  
  
  
*****   
  
  
He sat slumped at the end of the couch in Buffy's living room, gritting his teeth as the   
gash on his stomach started to heal. All he wanted was sleep, blood, and lots of it – none   
of which he could get at the Slayer's house, but here he sat. After disappearing into the   
kitchen for a moment, she returned with a bowl of soapy water and a washrag.   
  
"Buffy." She met his eyes, the wet cloth in her hand dripping on the carpet as she knelt   
before him. "You don't need to do this. I'll be…" Spike hissed when the warm, wet   
fabric touched the wound. "fine," he finished.   
  
"Of course you will." She swiped gently at the dried blood on his stomach. "But in my   
experience, these things heal faster when they're not all clogged up with grit and vamp   
dust." Buffy dipped the cloth back in the bowl, and rung it out, turning the water a sickly   
pink. He stared down at her, watching her nimble fingers mend the broken skin. It was   
taking every ounce of restraint he had just to control his reactions. Wouldn't do to get too   
excited about her tending to him like this. Finally satisfied with the absence of blood, she   
stood and carried everything back into the kitchen.   
  
Spike let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and closed his eyes.   
  
"Want some cocoa?" As she poked her head around the corner, he nodded sleepily.  
  
"Blood would be better, but I'll take what I can get, love." After giving him an odd,   
almost apologetic look, she vanished again and he could hear her filling the kettle. With a   
sigh, he leaned his head back against the couch cushions, eyelids drooping shut.  
  
  
*****   
  
His footsteps echoed loudly against the pavement, and he reached his hand out, stroking   
the rough brick surface under his fingertips absently. Like black velvet, the moonless   
night enveloped him, a chilled breeze caressing his skin. When he turned his gaze to the   
sky, bright points of light danced before him…stars winking from their timeless perches   
in the heavens. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth for a moment, and he lowered   
his eyes to the ground. When he glanced back up, the stars were rushing at him, angry   
and burning with white heat. Spike stumbled backwards a few steps and then found   
himself pressed firmly against the wall.   
  
Without a sound, the first one invaded his body, drawing him into a whirlpool of color   
and light.   
  
Flames licked the buildings, complacent, as if they had all the time in the world to burn.   
Screams punctured the previous silence, rising and falling from hoarse throats over an   
orchestra of grinding metal and stone. Smoke rose all around him, stinging his eyes. Then   
something large and scaly scampered past him into the alley on his right, moaning and   
cradling razor-sharp claws against its torso. He followed, hoping to find out something,   
anything.   
  
"Hey," he called. The thing shrunk into the shadows, muttering to itself.  
  
"What the bloody hell is going on?"  
  
Scaly growled a warning, his eyes narrowed to slits, glowing yellow in the darkness.   
Spike held his hands out before him, defensively.   
  
"Look, I won't hurt you. Just want to know what manner of hell I landed myself in this   
time."  
  
The thing relaxed slightly, and resumed his incoherent mumbling.  
  
"Open…open…open. Everything burns."  
  
Spike shook his head. "Don't quite follow, mate. Couldn't be a bit more specific?"  
  
He was met with a low, threatening snarl.  
  
"Right then. Guess I'm on my own." Spike backed slowly out of the alley, keeping a   
watchful eye on his new friend Scaly. Reaching the end, he turned the corner, quickly   
putting distance between him and the thing.   
  
Its howl rose through the air, filled with heart-rending torment. "Mouth…mouth.   
Swallow us all."  
  
The Hellmouth. Spike tore through the streets towards the old high school, dodging   
random piles of burnt flesh and gore with every step. He pulled up short when he rounded   
the final corner. Sulfur and the stench of death hung in the air, and the sky glowed a dull   
orange. Ungainly tentacles curled out from a gaping maw, writhing, wrapping themselves   
through tree branches. Ahead, he saw small forms dwarfed by the massive arms, fighting   
valiantly to put things right. Only two were still standing. Blue lightning shot from hands,   
imbuing the air with electricity, scorching it.   
  
And then he saw her. Laid out atop a pile of rubble. She looked so peaceful, as if she was   
only sleeping.  
  
"No." He whispered taking a step closer, hoping his eyes lied to him.  
  
She turned to face him then, only her neck moving, the rest of her body motionless as   
ever. Sightless albino eyes bore into him, through him. When her mouth opened, the   
voice was not hers, but the little girl's, the one lost so long ago.   
  
"Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes we all fall down." The   
singsong tone drove him over the edge.   
  
"NOOOO!" It came out as a roar, his anguish shattering the vision, until all he saw was   
black and blood.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
Steaming water sloshed over the rim of the mug and onto the counter as Buffy spun   
around. The keening rose in volume, taking on a desperate quality as she set the kettle in   
the sink and rushed into the living room. When she crossed the threshold, her eyes caught   
and held Dawn's as she flew down the stairs – the earlier argument forgotten. Her sister   
made it to the couch first. Instead of leaning lazily against the cushions, Spike was curled   
up in a fetal position, hands fastened to his ears, rocking and mumbling. One of them on   
either side, they gripped his tensed arms, struggling to pull them free. Buffy bellowed at   
him, trying to drown his screams by sheer force of will.   
  
"NOOOOO!" he roared, his mouth hovering near her ear. She recoiled at the sound and   
motioned Dawn away. Looking to the heavens for guidance, and quite possibly   
absolution, she punched him once…soundly on the nose. The gasp that slipped from   
between his lips, told her it had worked and she sat beside him, her sister crossing the   
room to curl up on his other side.   
  
Dawn glanced at Buffy over the vampire's still lowered head, eyes brimming with   
questions and tears. The firm shake of her sister's head was all she needed to know that   
now was not the time for questions. After a couple more quiet, wheezing sobs, he settled   
completely, hands drifting away from his ears, falling to clutch at each other as he wound   
his arms around his knees.   
  
Buffy broke the silence.   
  
"Spike, are you okay?"  
  
He muttered under his breath and turned his head towards her. "All gone…all…gone. No   
one. Nothing. Everything burns. Blood and death and dark. Death. Can't see…don't want   
to."   
  
Her hand shot out to catch his jaw in a firm grasp, lifting his eyes to her own. "Snap out   
of it." Spike nearly whimpered at the harsh tones, and her insides churned.   
  
"No bridge. Build it…have to. No use without the connection." Every word, his voice   
grew louder. "Bridge the gap. Seal the mouth. See the way." Her grip tightened and he   
whined pitifully. "My job…to find…find the line. Follow. So many choices."  
  
"Buffy?" Dawn whispered. "I don't think that's helping." With a soft touch, she pushed   
her sister's hand from his chin and twisted her body slightly so she could wrap her arms   
around him. She cradled his head against her shoulder and mumbled to him in soothing   
tones.   
  
"It's alright. Shhhh. Everything's okay."  
  
Gradually, his breathing slowed and muscles relaxed. Almost unconsciously, his arms   
wrapped around Dawn, and he sighed as he breathed in the sweet scent of her shampoo.   
Buffy watched as her sister consoled the vampire, almost jealous of the closeness they   
could share. She never seemed to be able to do that…definitely not with Spike. When she   
tried to comfort someone, it always felt false and forced. Never hurts to try, though.   
Tentatively, she reached out her hand, laying it lightly on his back. He tensed, but didn't   
retreat from her touch and after a moment he calmed. Buffy rubbed softly, the unease she   
was feeling somewhat assuaged when her sister nodded and smiled to her over his   
shoulder. After a few minutes, he released his hold on Dawn and sunk back into the   
couch with a ragged breath.   
  
The girls waited, eyes focused on his fatigued face.   
  
It sounded as if the words were being torn from his throat when he finally spoke, "I could   
really use that cocoa now, love."   
  
Buffy stared at him, his words taking a few moments to register. Her sister, on the other   
hand, patted his arm gently and shuffled into the kitchen to reheat some water. Spike   
directed a blank gaze at the floor, somewhere across the room, his hands clutched   
together in his lap.   
  
"Mind if I ask what that was?" She murmured softly.   
  
"Don't fancy talking about it right now, if it's all the same to you."  
  
Nodding, Buffy absorbed the vacant look in his eyes and the twitch of his jaw beneath   
pale skin. Now was probably not the best time. He seemed one good nudge from the edge   
and she didn't want to be the one that sent him toppling over again.   
  
Dawn lingered in the doorway a moment, cupping the cocoa between her hands.   
  
"We're out of marshmallows," she said.  
  
The vampire's head snapped around suddenly, a weak smile spread on his face.   
"S'alright, Nibblet. You and big sis have done more than enough already. Marshmallows   
are the last of my worries."   
  
She set the mug down on the coffee table in front of him and sighed.   
  
"What happened? What was that all…" Buffy silenced her with a glance, trying to save   
Spike from the teen inquisition.  
  
"I think it's bedtime." Dawn groaned and shot her sister a scornful look, as if someone   
had just kicked her puppy. "And no buts. I'm going to bed too, as soon as I get the mess   
in the kitchen dealt with." Her sister retreated up the stairs, all flounce and pout, but   
didn't slam her door. A slight improvement anyway.   
  
Buffy watched Spike for a moment, the way he held the cocoa with both hands, blowing   
the steam off of it…the way he was still shaking slightly. He looked like a lost little boy,   
just then, and her heart broke for him.  
  
"Stay." It was more of a statement than a question, and earned her the most befuddled   
look he had given her to date.   
  
"What was that, love?"  
  
"Stay…here. Just for tonight. I don't feel right sending you back to your crypt." Buffy   
flushed and hurried towards the stairs, forgetting about the disaster in the kitchen. Her   
hand fell on the banister and as her foot touched the third step, she spun around slowly.   
"Spike…for what it's worth…" The pause lengthened as she took a couple deep breaths.   
"I'm sorry."  
  
Glancing back at her over his shoulder, Spike felt tears sting behind his eyelids again.   
"Thanks, Buffy." Uncomfortable, he cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm sorry   
too." He turned away from her then, burying his shoulder in pillows on the couch, didn't   
want her to see him cry. "Night, love."  
  
"Night, Spike," she mumbled and quickly climbed the last few stairs. 


	10. The Morning After

The Morning After  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing with the lovely characters of a creative mastermind we all know as Joss.  
  
When he woke, the sun was already burning high in the sky, the light filtering through the curtains giving the room a dusky hue. Sometime in the night he had removed his boots and socks, hoping to get comfortable enough to sleep. His shirt though, had twisted around him and gotten stuck between the cushions as he tossed and turned. So much for sleeping like the dead. At least there hadn't been another nightmare. With a yawn, Spike pushed himself up on one elbow and rubbed a hand across his scratchy eyes. He listened for sounds of movement, but the house was still. No heartbeats, no breath. They must have taken off somewhere. Groaning, he rose from the couch and padded into the kitchen, the wound on his stomach sending lovely stinging sensations over his skin. He lifted the hem of his shirt and found the gash red and angry, the skin surrounding it enflamed. Blood, need blood. Apparently someone heard him, because when he opened the fridge looking for something to drink, three large packets of blood sat on the top shelf, with a note taped haphazardly to them.  
  
  
  
Spike,  
  
Thought you could use something to eat. Went out, but we shouldn't be gone long. Don't go anywhere. I still want to talk about what happened last night. And don't go poking around in my room. Feel free to take a shower or watch television or whatever, though. See you soon.  
  
  
  
He folded the note and slipped it in his pocket with a smile. Rummaging through the cabinets he turned up one of Joyce's old coffee mugs, one of those double-size ones, and poured his breakfast into it. Spike pushed a few buttons on the microwave and waited for the blood to heat, drumming his fingers against the counter impatiently. Next to the stove there was a spice rack and he twirled it around, inspecting the contents. Hmm, he thought, paprika...never tried that one. The bell on the microwave went off and he uncapped the jar, turning to remove his mug. With a shrug he upended half of it into the blood and stirred with his finger. He couldn't help but chuckle as he licked it off. Standing in the Slayer's kitchen, eating a breakfast she bought me. Never thought that could happen. He gulped it down, enjoying the sweet bite of spice as the blood slid down his throat. Grimacing, he turned to rinse the cup. Never get used to the taste of packaged pig's blood though, he thought. Bloody crime.  
  
He roamed around downstairs for a few minutes, toying with some of Joyce's knickknacks, looking at the pictures scattered around the living room.  
  
"Who the hell am I trying to kid?" he muttered quietly and made for the steps, taking them two at a time until he was just outside Buffy's bedroom. With a deep breath he laid his hand on the door and pushed inside. Almost immediately, her scent surrounded him, drowning him. The curtains were still drawn, and it lent everything a soft, ethereal glow.  
  
Hesitantly, he entered her inner sanctum. With light fingertips, he drew his hand across the cool cotton of her pillowcase and then clutched it to his nose, inhaling deeply. For a moment, he listened...searching for any indication they had returned. No human sounds, only the tidy mechanical tick of a clock and the quiet hum of air conditioning. He returned her pillow to its place at the head of the bed and stretched out on top of her comforter, wrapping himself not in blankets, but the warmth of her life. Turning on his side, he pressed his cheek into it, gazing out the window he had stared up at for so long. A sparkling bauble caught his eye, a prism hanging there, dancing in the light breaking each sunbeam into a thousand thin rays - each a different color. Transfixed, he followed each line to its termination, where they left small bright spots on the carpet and walls. He didn't hear Buffy call to him as she and Dawn tumbled through the door weighed down by shopping bags.  
  
"Maybe he left." Dawn reasoned, as she dropped her burdens in the living room. But then she saw his boots still sitting at the end of the coffee table and his duster draped across the arm of the couch. "Or maybe not."  
  
"Spike?" Buffy cried again, depositing the bags in her arms next to her sister's.  
  
"Weird." Dawn murmured. "In the shower?"  
  
Her sister just shook her head, "We'd hear the water." Without a second thought, she mounted the stairs, taking slow deliberate steps. She could see a shaft of light where her bedroom door stood ajar. A low growl escaped her lips.  
  
"He just never listens, does he?" She pushed the door open, finding him curled up atop her bedclothes. "Spike, what the hell do you think you're doing?" He didn't turn at the sound of her voice, didn't even twitch. "Spike..." No one could mistake the threat in her words as she stomped around to the other side of the bed. "If you want to stay non-dusty, I'd suggest..." She trailed off, seeing the empty look stretched across his features.  
  
"Buffy?" Spike's eyes were still unfocused and his voice faraway. "I have to, don't you see pet? And soon. Now I understand."  
  
"What?" Buffy turned to notice Dawn standing in the doorway, her hand gripping the knob with white knuckles.  
  
With a heavy sigh, he sat up, staring at his hands now instead of nothing. His voice was shaky, almost a whisper, at first when he finally spoke.  
  
"Last night, I saw you...die." He choked on the last word and ran a hand through his hair nervously, striving to maintain what little composure he had left. "That was what set me off like that. Couldn't bear it, love."  
  
"Spike..."  
  
"Just let me finish, Slayer." She nodded and sat at the foot of the bed, listening.  
  
"All the little nasties swimming around in my head, all the possibilities. They're all there." He turned to look at her, his fist twisting in the covers when a sudden flash revealed the sightless eyes he had seen last night, and then another showed streaks of gray in her golden hair and smile lines creasing her eyes. Spike blinked and shook off the visions, standing to cross to the window. Oblivious to the sun, he reached out to toy with the trinket hanging there.  
  
"It's like this...prism. Right now I've got the beginning and the end, but I can't find the sodding middle." He rolled the warm glass between his fingers, finally noticing that they were smoking.  
  
For her part, Buffy was lost. "What?"  
  
Head lowered, he turned his back on the window. "See all those dancing little points of light out there? On the walls and such?"  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"That's the future. Little specks of light. And the sun...well, that's the past. So bleeding constant, it always rises and sets."  
  
She gave him a blank look, and Dawn crept in to sit beside her sister on the bed. His voice grew stronger, more assured with every word.  
  
"Right now, there is no prism. No present to take the past and bend it into the future. And it hurts. I can't find the line, can't see which one is the right path without it." He chuckled bitterly, rubbing his temples. "Can't protect you or the 'Bit"  
  
"You're going to have to help me out here, Spike. I don't get what any of this has to do with anything...especially not what you're doing in my room when I..."  
  
He interrupted her rant, his voice low and more solemn than she'd ever heard it. "Listen a second, alright?"  
  
Buffy's mouth opened.  
  
"Please." The earnest request made her jaw snap shut as she nodded.  
  
"They already tortured me but good over the past. And last night...well, that was a twisted version of the future I'd rather not live." He turned away from them, staring out the window again. "Only remember bits and pieces of it, but I think that's what I was going on about...the connection. I guess I came to terms with this all-knowing gig. If that's the way things have to go, fine. If it means I have the slightest chance of preventing what I saw, I'll do it...in a heartbeat." Spike looked back over his shoulder at the two girls sitting beside each other on the bed, Buffy confused, Dawn scared, and took a deep breath. "Couldn't live with myself...if something happened to either of you, and I knew I could've done something about it." His gaze shifted back out the window, thoughtful but unyielding.  
  
Silence engulfed them, and Dawn turned pleading eyes on her sister. She knew she had to do this, Spike knew she had to do this, now it was just a matter of convincing Buffy. It wouldn't be easy, that much she knew. She would probably have had better luck winning over a brick wall, as stubbornas her sister was. Tears glittered softly on the older girl's cheeks as she tugged her sister into a tight hug. Buffy's lips settled close to her ear, and she spoke with a whisper so faint, Dawn almost didn't hear.  
  
"Give us a few minutes, okay?"  
  
Confused, she pulled out of the embrace and searched her sister's face for answers. Nothing but the glistening on her cheeks and a firm set to her mouth, so she shrugged and stood to leave, closing the door behind her.  
  
As usual, Buffy's feelings were a complete mess. Willow's words replayed in her head.  
  
"This denial thing? It's part of it"  
  
And her mind traveled back over the past several months, trying to find a time when Spike had let her down, or done anything but help her...even though he didn't have to. Well, there was that time in the crypt. But she sincerely hoped that was an act of desperation. She thought it was, and he had apologized for it. Then she saw his face, not a month later, bloodied and torn. And he'd done it for her, and for Dawn...even though he had no reason to. She had literally shut him out of her life, and deliberately broken his heart. Told him he didn't have a chance. He hadn't given them up that day, as easy as it would have been. Her lips tingled as the memory of kissing him washed over her. Where did that come from? Maybe Willow had a point. And she remembered all the good he'd done, especially the thing with Glory. He was the reason her sister was still here. Well, that's not entirely true, she mused. He was the reason she was still here. Spike had no idea that it was her life he had saved that night. Didn't know the decision she had already made before the battle...and he should. Something clicked and a slow, wide smile slipped across her face. The bed springs creaked softly as she rolled over on her stomach to search beneath her mattress. Her hand closed around the handle of her favorite dagger and she pulled it free. When she sat up again, he was looking at her, his pain displayed openly in red-rimmed eyes. For a second, she saw the lost little boy that had sat on her couch last night and her resolve solidified. She fingered the knife's blade lightly, watching it shimmer in the low light.  
  
"That night...with Glory. I came to a kind of decision." Buffy was whispering, and he took a few steps closer so he wouldn't have to strain his ears. She shifted a few inches over and patted the bed beside her. When he sat, he left space between them, knowing she wouldn't want to be crowded, no matter how long he had waited for this moment. Not exactly the way I pictured being in the Slayer's bed, he thought, but it'll do. When he settled, Buffy continued.  
  
"I knew the monks made Dawn out of me. My blood. If you hadn't...if we had...if the portal had opened, I would have been the one closing it."  
  
"Buffy, I..."  
  
"No Spike. I listened to you, now it's your turn." She paused, drawing a deep breath. "I would have done anything to protect her, even if I had to sacrifice myself. Just like you. The others...they, well you heard them. Giles practically told me to kill her. I couldn't do that. So I made a decision."  
  
"Look pet, I know all this, and I know how painful it is for you to relive it all by telling me about it. So, just let it rest."  
  
Her brow crinkled as she turned to him, "How?"  
  
Spike sighed. She's definitely not going to like this. "The past. I got a very up-close-and-personal tour of yours the other day, love. Suppose they thought it would be funny."  
  
"Oh." Buffy paused for a moment, watching the blade flip over and over in her hands. She cleared her throat and looked at him, searching his face for some sign of what he was thinking. She came up empty. "This...prophecy thing. It's between you and Dawn. I have no right to interfere, even if I am her sister."  
  
"Buffy, you worry about her...don't want to see her hurt, you have every right to..."  
  
"Really, I don't. Especially not in the way I'm about to." She sliced the dagger across her palm, leaving a growing trail of blood behind. The look on her face remained unchanged as she watched the thick red liquid pool. The demon danced in Spike, trying to force its way out, and he covered his face with unsteady hands, perhaps thinking he could shove it back if he applied enough pressure.  
  
Buffy touched his forehead lightly, feeling the ridges under her fingers. She leaned close to his ear and whispered.  
  
"Let it come. I know what you are. This..." She held her bloodied palm beneath his nose and watched his nostrils flare. "This is my gift to you. That you don't have to drink from Dawn again. And a promise. That you'll never be the only one willing to give up everything to protect her."  
  
His hands dropped from his face, revealing amber eyes clouded with confusion. Buffy looped her other arm behind his neck and pushed her palm closer to his mouth. Blinking once, and then twice he lowered his head, pressing a gentle kiss against her wrist where the blood pulsed beneath the skin. Then his tongue appeared between moistened lips, lapping at the liquid gathered in her hand with unbridled fervor. She watched, fascinated. And she saw the cut had already healed as he cleaned the last drops of blood from her skin. He could feel her power coursing through him, the sweet tang of her still tingling on his taste buds and his face shifted back to its human guise.  
  
"Why?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Because I can." She paused, searching for the right words. Spike still had a firm grasp on her wrist, and he drew her hand to his lips again and kissed the cut on her palm. A blush rose in her cheeks and crept down her neck as she worked her arm free.  
  
"Spike..." she warned as she clutched her hand to her chest. He acted as if he hadn't heard her and reached out to brush a lock of hair off her forehead and tuck it behind her ear.  
  
"Did I ever tell you how much I love you, pet?"  
  
Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes, standing abruptly to stare out the window in an effort to put some distance between them.  
  
"Once or twice...you know, when you had me chained up." She glanced back at him over her shoulder, saw the shame and sorrow shining in his eyes, and then returned her gaze to the window. "Look, Spike. I don't love you. I'm not even sure that I can love you. But at least now..." Buffy took a deep breath. "Now I'm willing to try."  
  
She waited for his reaction. A few minutes passed, and still he didn't rush to her side, didn't say anything. Buffy felt vulnerable and exposed, and with a sigh she turned around to face him. Her breath caught in her throat.  
  
He lay half on, half off her bed, his eyes screwed shut, head tossing side-to-side violently. Grabbing his ankles, she swung his legs up and stood back trying to figure out what to do. After a second's deliberation she picked up the phone and dialed.  
  
"Giles...yeah, something's wrong. It's Spike. Just get here, okay?" 


	11. Guardian

Guardian  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing with the lovely characters of a creative mastermind we all know as Joss.  
  
  
Moaning, he turned over, feeling the warmed surface of broken stone press against his cheek. Something hovered just on the edge of his perception, and he forced his eyes open. A low green glow fell over what he assumed was a courtyard of some kind, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, trying to recall why it all looked very familiar.   
  
"Welcome."   
  
Startled, Spike whipped his head around to face the owner of the voice, a soft groan escaping his lips when his eyes finally focused. The Guardian...Dru.  
  
"Welcome? That all you can say?" With a derisive snort, he continued. "Sorry, love. Not feeling particularly welcomed right now."  
  
He launched to his feet, surveying his surroundings with a predator's eye. Enormous columns rose from the floor to support the high ceiling. A thin layer of grit covered everything, including the mosaic laid out before him. With a frown, he reached out to brush away the dust, eyes widening at each inch uncovered. His eyelids fluttered shut, and a flash of memory - Buffy's bloodied palm, reminded him why he was here. Dru watched as he slowly put the pieces together.   
  
Over his shoulder, her heard her titter quietly.  
  
"I'm glad someone finds this bloody amusing." He leaned back against a column facing her. "So...what now."  
  
"Now we finish."  
  
"And how exactly is that, pet?" His voice sharp-edged with irritation. "Because from past experience, the longer I'm here...the longer I'm not there. They've been through enough, what with you lot making me a babbling loony and all. Don't care to worry them anymore."  
  
The Guardian closed the distance between them, Dru's image vanishing in front of his eyes - splitting, revealing their true nature. A human female of about nineteen, hair a warm chestnut color swept away from her face and held with a golden clasp, her eyes like his, the color of ice. A reptile-looking demon, hide covered with iridescent green scales and laced with battle scars, one rheumy yellowed eye missing, leaving an empty socket. And the angelic being, for whom there was no physical form, only a bright blinding light and a resonant hum.   
  
The demon limped forward, holding a charm in his outstretched hand. He forced it into Spike's palm, claws digging into tender flesh.   
  
"For darkness."  
  
He shuffled back towards the others and Spike blinked as the disembodied glow shimmered before his eyes. A whisper danced through his head, and he felt a tingling sensation run across his skin and up his arm as the second charm dropped out of thin air, coming to rest atop the other.   
  
"For light."  
  
The girl stepped forward, and clasped his hand between hers, pressing the last charm into his palm. She raised her eyes to his, and he saw a flicker of a smile there. With a chuckle, he returned the smile. Girl had spirit...he liked that.   
  
"And for the balance between." Her words rose through the still air, wrapping them in a brilliant green cocoon as she placed ever more pressure on his hand. Spike felt his skin grow warm, and as the metals fused together in his palm he hissed in pain. "Let him be marked and bound. Sworn in his duty. The balance-keeper."   
  
He fell to his knees, skin still sizzling with heat as the girl held his hand in hers.   
  
"Do you accept?"  
  
With a raised eyebrow, his eyes met hers again, voice strangled and quiet. "Do I have a choice?"  
  
"We all have choices, William. Such is the way."  
  
"And if I don't?"  
  
"Your physical form will shrivel and turn to dust and your consciousness will remain here with us.  
  
"Not much of a choice then, is it?"  
  
She shrugged slightly, and grinned. "I said we all have choices, never said they were good."  
  
"Right then. Let's get on with it, haven't got all day."  
  
The girl released his hands, taking the small bit of metal from his palm as she retreated. Her form faded from view, darkness overtaking his senses until, once again he was alone, in The Void.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
Buffy looked across her bed to where her watcher crouched on the other side, trying to find any signs of life in the vampire that lay before him. Not an easy task. All they knew so far was that he wasn't technically dead...he hadn't dusted yet. And every now and again his body would twitch and writhe between the covers, his mouth open but soundless, and she wasn't sure if he was gasping or trying to scream.  
  
Five hours, he'd been like this, and nothing they did seemed to pull him out of whatever dream he was caught in. When Dawn saw him, she'd broken down in inconsolable tears. Willow and Tara had swung by shortly thereafter to collect her, promising to hit the books as soon as they got home.  
  
"I thought this was supposed to help?" Her voice wavered when she spoke.   
  
Giles rocked back on his haunches and removed his glasses, cleaning them slowly on his shirttail. "We really have no idea what has happened, Buffy. For all we know he's going through a final transformation of some kind. I wish you had told me you planned to complete the ritual." He shot her a disapproving look. "My efforts have been focused on finding a way around it, instead of seeking the end result." With a sigh, he replaced his glasses and stood.   
  
"Giles...look, I'm sorry. The second time, well I had no control over that. And the third...God, you should have seen him. He looked so lost. So broken. I couldn't let him stay that way."  
  
"Of course not. But you might have at least told someone what you intended to do."  
  
Buffy winced as another round of convulsions passed through Spike's body, fresh tears threatening to spill across her cheeks. Giles turned his back on them to stare at the setting sun beyond the window. Sometimes, he thought, she can be so utterly foolish.   
  
"Will he be okay?" In that moment, she seemed so young and small...a child seeking reassurance that the world was an easy place where no one ever died. She knew better, and she was far too old to delude in such a manner, so he gave her the hard truth instead of the easy lie.  
  
"Honestly, Buffy...I don't know."  
  
  
*****   
  
  
Wisps of green energy swum around him, licking at his legs and arms as they propelled him onwards. Through time. Through space. He'd long ago lost track of when and where he was, his ears honed to a constant, low, vibrating hum as the slideshow flickered and changed. Battles waged. Alliances sealed. Every event, in every dimension, past and present. And death. So much death. The one certainty that all this brought him was that sooner or later, everyone dies. And for all his noble ambition, he began to question if the choice he had made was the right one.   
  
As if on cue, a familiar vision swept past his eyes. Buffy smiling, her arm wrapped around Dawn's shoulders as they walked away from the teetering tower, leading the group of exhausted, but triumphant Scoobies home.   
  
Definitely the right choice.   
  
  
*****   
  
  
Giles was downstairs on the phone with Willow, probably recommending texts to search for clues to Spike's...condition. Her watcher hadn't said anything to her, but she could tell he was worried. By now Spike had been out going on twelve hours, and the night was slowly creeping into morning. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Well, when he wasn't having seizures. She reached a hand out to brush the moisture from his cheeks. Whatever he was seeing, it upset him. Buffy couldn't help but blame herself. Logically, she knew it wasn't her fault, but if she hadn't rushed into things without thinking at least they would have a better idea of what was going on. Know when and if he would snap out of it. With a weak smile, she curled her fingers through Spike's and squeezed his hand, a surprised gasp slipping from between her lips when he squeezed back. It was a good sign.   
  
"Come on, Spike." She whispered softly. "Never knew anything that could keep Big Bad down."  
  
Buffy laughed to herself. Big Bad. He had always thought of himself that way. Even after his pathetic display when Dru dumped him. Even after he returned the second time and failed miserably to hold onto the Gem of Amara. Even after he showed up on Giles doorstep, chipped, begging for their help. When she looked back down at his sleeping features, she saw what he had always been. A big softie wrapped in a thick plated armor of snark and swagger. A man that craved love so deeply, he'd do anything for even the slightest chance it might be returned. She started to wonder if the line he'd fed her about his past was anywhere close to the truth. Buffy had no doubt he'd faced the Slayers and won, but she couldn't quite believe he'd been a hard-nosed London pickpocket before he was turned...too much residual emotion.  
  
"You can do this."  
  
  
*****   
  
  
When he shook himself to consciousness, he lay amongst the grit and broken stone at the temple again, none the worse for wear really...except for a thrumming ache between his ears.  
  
"That all you got?" He shouted into the empty air.  
  
"Not quite." Spike turned towards the voice and saw the girl reclined against one of the columns lazily inspecting her fingernails. "Walk with me." Her gilded sandal scraped against the sand covering the floor as she turned on her heel and strode outside.  
  
His body obeyed, and soon he was loping after her, out into the desert. Effortlessly, he fell in step with her, waiting for her to speak. When the silence grew too confining for the vampire, he broke it.  
  
"So...uh, what do they call you, pet?"  
  
She stopped walking, and her face twisted when she looked at him, as if he'd asked something completely absurd. Still, she didn't answer.  
  
"Your name?"  
  
The girl sighed, soft and sibilant, like the sand rubbing together beneath their feet "In life I was called Fiona. Here, I have no name save the one I'm given...Guardian."  
  
"Fiona it is then." She smiled sweetly.  
  
"There's more to you than meets the eye, vampire."  
  
"First rule of any good defense," His smile echoed hers. "Always keep 'em guessing."  
  
She giggled, a happy girlish noise that reminded him of Dawn. Reminded him why he was here, and more importantly why he had to get home...duty. Felt nice to have a purpose again, even if it wasn't one he'd picked for himself. He turned to her, to ask her if he was free to go, but she was gone. Spike spied her, several paces off when he caught the golden glint of her hair clasp on the crest of a dune. With a sigh, he ran to catch her, the sand slowing him only slightly, and fell into step again beside her.   
  
"So, Fiona. Where we off to?" She ignored his question, and made herself comfortable as she sat, removing her sandals. Grumbling, he settled down next to her.   
  
"William," she said quietly, "There is some concern about your ability to fulfill your duty."  
  
Her soft statement stoked a flame of purely male ego in him, and brought it out to burn. "I'm quite able, love. And willing. Do anything to protect the 'Bit. Even before this..." He waved his hand at their surroundings, trying to find the right word. "development."  
  
"Willing yes. Able is still in question. That's why I've brought you here."  
  
"What exactly are you gettin' at?"  
  
Fiona shifted her body to face him, flipping a long strand of errant hair back over her shoulder. "What would you do if she were attacked by humans?"  
  
Momentarily speechless, Spike searched for an answer. He opened his mouth twice and closed it again after a few seconds. There was no good reply for this. His chip prevented him from hurting humans, and that was that. Somehow, the thing they had once seen as a blessing was now a stumbling block, and he scowled at the injustice of it.   
  
"Or if she were taken in daylight?"  
  
Again, his very nature would prevent him from doing anything about it.  
  
"Bloody hell," he groused. "If I'm so inadequate, why bother bringing me here at all." Spike stood and paced the ground in front of her, seething. "I'd come to terms with this. Accepted my fate, and all that. And here you are telling me I'm not good enough? Bugger this." He turned and started back towards the temple. "Just send me home."  
  
"William." Unwillingly, his body froze and he was held in place. Enraged he threw himself against the invisible barrier, snarling.   
  
"What the hell do you want from me?"  
  
"Listen to me." Fiona strode forward with fire in her eyes and clamped her hand down on his chin. He twisted in her grip like a spoiled child trying to free himself from a scolding parent. "And listen well. We brought you here because you are worthy. Worthy enough we are willing to bend the rules for you." Spike quieted, listening intently. "Never before has there been a demon so willing to go against his nature, with so little encouragement."  
  
She had his attention.  
  
"Angelus..." he whispered.  
  
This brought a smile to her face and laughter to her lips. "Angel? Oh yes, we know all about his gypsy curse. The soul. The prophecies whirling around him and his Champion status"  
  
Spike found a particularly interesting spot on the ground to study as he ran through all the ways he had never lived up to his grandsire.  
  
"We also know about the century of complete uselessness following it."  
  
He couldn't help but grin as his eyes rose to meet hers again.  
  
"It has only been a bit over a year since you acquired your implant, and here you are...you've helped avert at least two apocalypses and willingly given yourself over to a destiny you had no say in, to protect a teenage girl that three years ago you would have rather eaten so much as looked at."  
  
He nodded slowly, accepting her words, knowing them to be true. "So...about this rule-bending...what are we talking?"  
  
"Wouldn't do to spoil the surprise, now would it? It has already been done. For now, I think it is long past time for you to go home."  
  
His words were cut off abruptly as Fiona and the desert disappeared, leaving only void.  
  
  
*****   
  
  
Spike's eyelids fluttered open, and the first thing he was aware of was something large and heavy resting on his stomach. When he looked down, all he saw was a mess of golden hair spilled across his chest. With a smile, he raised his hand to brush it away so he could see her face, but found his fingers entangled with hers. Her breathing continued, deep and even, she was asleep. He used his free hand to remove the offending locks, his smile turning into a wide-mouthed grin as he looked at her. She looked so peaceful when she was sleeping. A glance at the clock confirmed that he had been gone a hell of a long time, knew he should wake her. The others were probably hovering downstairs somewhere. Funny how they all came together in times of crisis...like a family. Spike decided they could wait. He wanted to savor every moment of this. 


	12. To Evolve

To Evolve  
  
  
Disclaimer: Getting lazy. All Joss, and etc.  
  
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Keep them coming, feedback is lifeblood. Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter, but it felt like the right place to stop Enjoy!  
  
  
  
  
Sunrise spilled through the curtains, painting the walls with brilliant pinks and oranges. Spike still hadn't brought himself to wake Buffy, and so he sat gently stroking her hair, listening to her soft snores. The door to her room opened silently, and he tensed, not knowing who would be on the other side. Probably Nibblet, he thought. But it was the watcher that crept in with quiet footsteps, looking haggard.   
  
"Oh. I see you're up." Spike flashed him a weak smile.  
  
"Conscious anyway. Up is another story. Didn't want to wake Sleeping Beauty here."  
  
"Indeed," he whispered with hushed tones. "She was quite worried about you. We all were really."  
  
"Sorry about that. Didn't have much choice in the matter." Spike ran his free hand through his hair, the other still clutched tightly between Buffy's fingers.   
  
"Yes...well. It was rather foolhardy for her to complete the ritual without telling me. We had no idea what to expect." Giles cleared his throat quietly, and Buffy shifted, mumbling something under her breath. "If I may ask, what did happen?"  
  
"Rites, charms, whirlwind tour through history." Spike chuckled lightly. "All in a day's work...at least since I hooked up with you white hats."  
  
"I suppose you're right. Anything else worthy of note?"  
  
With a sigh, he sat up straighter, his eyes focused on the watcher's face. "Dunno. Still not quite sure what the hell it meant. Last thing Fiona said before I woke up here... something about rule-bending and it already having been done."   
  
The older man gave him a puzzled look, "Fiona?"  
  
"Right...yeah. Fiona's one of the Guardians. Saucy little chit. I liked her."  
  
Buffy stirred again, and her eyelids snapped open as she felt the muscles in Spike's stomach twitch. When had she fallen asleep? And why wasn't she lying down? And why was her pillow moving? She tried to rub her eyes, but found her hand caught by something. A hand? She looked up and saw Spike smiling down at her.   
  
"Mornin' sunshine."   
  
Suddenly Buffy was very awake, her back ramrod straight and pressed against the chair behind her as she hastily removed her hand from his grip.   
  
"I didn't...I mean...I just...I...I was tired." She knew she'd been caught, and her dismount was less than graceful.   
  
Spike smirked at her. He wanted to taunt her ruthlessly, but felt himself lacking a taste for it. "S'alright, love. My hand was just starting to cramp. No harm done."   
  
A flush bloomed on Buffy's cheeks and crept down her neck. Silence settled, as she studiously avoided his eyes. When Giles' voice rose through the tension, she breathed a sigh of relief and gave him a grateful smile.  
  
"I should call the others. Let them know everything's alright." Her mouth dropped open and she scowled at his retreating back as it disappeared through her door. Spike clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to remove the stiffness from his joints. It was then he saw it - a tattoo of sorts on his palm, the skin surrounding it raised and blistered, as if he'd been branded. A filled circle overlaid with a larger open circle, both surrounded by a triangle.   
  
"Guess they weren't kidding," he chuckled as he explored the tender flesh with careful fingertips. Buffy, who had wandered over to look out the window, trying urgently to rid herself of her blush, flipped her head around to look at him.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
As an answer, Spike held his hand up for her inspection. "Marked and bound. Guess they meant the marked part literally, eh pet?" Curiously, she took his hand between hers, cringing when she saw the raw, reddened skin.  
  
"Did it hurt?"  
  
"Been hurt worse...but yeah, it tingled a bit. Didn't make a whimpering nancy boy out of me if that's what you're asking." He held perfectly still as she ran her fingers over the raised welts with an uncustomary tenderness.   
  
"We should get some ice."  
  
With a smile, he closed his hand around hers. "I'll be fine, love."  
  
When her eyes met his again, the rosy color stole back into her cheeks and she escaped in the direction of the window. A sigh played on his lips as he took in her rigid back and crossed arms.  
  
"Never figured you for the running away type, Slayer."   
  
Indignant, Buffy spun on him. "Running away? What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"You think I didn't hear what you said?"  
  
"When? What? Where?"  
  
"C'mon love. Before I took my last trip into the great beyond...you know, you remember." Spike slid forward to sit on the edge of the bed, waiting.  
  
Suddenly her voice was very quiet, reverent almost as if she was afraid she'd break something. "You heard that, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. I did."  
  
Buffy tried to cover it up with an offhand remark and a shrug. "Momentary insanity, I guess."   
  
He leapt to his feet, eyes flashing and gripped her shoulders with both hands. "Don't. Say that."   
  
She ripped herself from his grip and slid backwards into the sunlight, out of his reach. "What Spike? Don't tell the truth?"  
  
Without a thought, he pursued her...pressing his body against hers intimately, raising his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. So warm. So alive. And she'd said it. Not that she loved him, of course...but that she'd give him a chance. It was worth everything, and he pressed his ruined palm against her silken skin, his thumb playing softly across her cheekbone. Her breath came in short desperate gasps and she placed her hands against his chest, ready to push him away. Then she noticed. The sunlight spilling across his chiseled cheekbones, shadows nestled in the hollows beneath them. Spike felt her breath catch in her throat and he sought out her eyes. What he found there was indescribable - an odd mixture of confusion, dismay, surprise, delight...and yet more confusion.  
  
"Spike."  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"You're not on fire."  
  
"What?"   
  
"Look."  
  
Sure enough, when he looked down, Spike found his forearm bathed in light, not a curl of smoke to be seen. He loosed his hold on her and ripped open the curtains, thrusting his hand into the full strength of the newly risen sun. Buffy simply stared, her mouth open.  
  
"How?"  
  
A warm chuckle spilled over his lips, "Fiona." Spike reflected on her questions, the ones he thought had been designed to disparage him.   
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I'll explain later, pet. I promise." If his smile had gotten any wider, it might have broken his face. "Can I ask a favor first?"  
  
"Um...okay. Although sometime today I would like to know why you didn't just go up like a Roman candle."  
  
"Can I hit you?"  
  
"Can you what?" Any hint of wonder or tenderness in her voice fled as she backed away from him, instinctively adopting a defensive stance.   
  
"Buffy, please...I have to test something." His eyes pled with her, wide and intense.  
  
"I'm not going to let you beat up on me just to 'test something'...especially when I have no idea what that something is."  
  
"One good shot on the shoulder. Not even anything to write home about...feel free to swing back if you like. C'mon Buffy. You know very well I wouldn't hurt you."  
  
"Just one?" She was still unsure. Why am I doing this, she thought.   
  
"One."  
  
"And you promise to tell me what the hell is going on?"  
  
"You have my word."   
  
"And I can hit you back?"  
  
"Break my nose again for all I care, Slayer." Spike threw his hands in the air out of frustration.  
  
Buffy nibbled on her lip for a few moments, and when she replied, it was in a whisper. "Alright." She shoved her shoulder forward and spread her feet a bit wider and closed her eyes, waiting for the impact of Spike's fist.   
  
"Ready?"  
  
"As I'll ever be."  
  
When the blow landed, it was almost soft. Enough to send the endorphins singing in her blood, but her body didn't even move to absorb it. He hadn't put anything near his full strength in it. What the hell is going on? Spike can hit me now? And sunlight, not so repellant. God, please don't tell me I have to stake him. Did I just think that?  
  
Buffy's eyes snapped open, expecting to find him hovering a few inches in front of her. Instead, he was sitting on her bed slouched over, and he looked...constipated?  
  
"Explanations? Now please."  
  
"Love, I don't know anymore than you what's going on...I can't vamp."  
  
She watched as he tried again to bring the demon forth. Nothing. Not the flicker of a yellow eye or even the tiniest hint of bumpies. Buffy touched his arm gently, trying to help quell the fear she saw in his eyes. Cool skin rippled under her hand, and she snatched it back, puzzlement once again twisting her pretty features.   
  
"What the..." she whispered.  
  
And then their voices rose over each other.  
  
"Giles!"  
  
"Watcher!" 


	13. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
Disclaimer: All Joss, I only wish they were mine.  
  
  
"Hybrid?" Spike pushed the word past a curled lip and flicked the butt of his cigarette halfway across the cemetery. For the past two weeks he'd been probed, poked, and questioned about everything from his turning to the visions...his patience was wearing thin.  
  
"Don't kill the messenger." Buffy chuckled as she walked beside him, her strides matching his effortlessly. "I just thought you'd like to know what Giles came up with."  
  
Sighing, he sauntered over to a large oak tree and settled himself atop the dew-kissed grass and grave dirt, leaning back. "Funny. Supposed to be this big, all-knowing bloke, and I can't even figure out what I am anymore."   
  
She watched him for a few moments, saw turmoil in his eyes, heard the unease in his voice. When she thought about it, Buffy realized that since his last episode, they had spent a lot of time talking like this. By now it seemed easy and familiar...comforting almost. He kept inventing excuses to come over. Being a teenager, Dawn didn't appreciate it when he burst through the front door at 9 AM on a Saturday wanting to take her to the park. It was strange, seeing him in the sunlight. Like his moods were inexplicably tuned to dawn and dusk. In the sun, he laughed and joked. She had sworn he was going to look like a lobster after the first two days as much time as he spent outside. Thankfully, she had been wrong, but his skin was getting to be a nice healthy bronzed color and the dark circles that had appeared beneath his eyes when this ordeal began were slowly fading. When they were alone in the night though, he changed. As the moon rose, his disposition darkened, and she wasn't sure if it was the visions or his personal demons that haunted him. Buffy noticed that he was still sitting slumped against the tree staring out at the stars, and she moved to sit beside him.   
  
"You okay?" She nudged him softly with her shoulder.   
  
"No pet, I'm not. Don't know if I'll ever be okay again."  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "Hey, at the rate you're going you'll out-brood the Broodmaster himself."   
  
"Not brooding." Spike growled, cringing at the mention of grandsire.   
  
"Yeah. You are," she said softly and felt his body surge with a rising tide of emotion.  
  
When he turned his gaze on her, his eyes flashed with a hint of the old malice for a split second before they softened. "What the hell am I supposed to do, love? I'm still stuck between worlds. No heartbeat or body heat. No chip. No demon. Bloody hell, from what the watcher said, I should be dead...but I'm not. What am I?"  
  
Buffy leaned her head back against the tree and shifted closer to him until her hip and shoulder rested against his. It was a gesture she'd learned placated him when he got like this. "You know Spike, there are a lot of people in the world who ask the same thing every day...and some who don't even get around to wondering about it." She shifted her body to face him, her hand cupping his cheek, then lifting his chin gently until his eyes met hers. "Sometimes the best solution is just to be."   
  
Perhaps it was the unshed tears that clung like fine diamonds on his lower lashes, or the pain in the blue eyes cloaked behind them. If he had asked her why afterwards, Buffy would not have been able to find the words. Maybe it was the moon. Heart beating erratically against her ribcage, she leaned closer, her own eyelashes grazing gently against her cheeks. When her lips brushed against the cool, softness of his, she could swear the earth sighed.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
FIN  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for their kind reviews, and all the support and encouragement you've given. I may continue this in another series, but at this point I don't know. I apologize if the end has seemed a bit rushed, but this was a story of Spike's transformation. Thank you all again, and I hope that when my new fic comes out you'll return to read it as well. 


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